begin the end
by dustofwarfare
Summary: Six years after the Deepground crisis, Sephiroth returns - with no memory of anything that happened at Nibelheim, or afterwards. Cloud Strife, convinced it's a trap, advocates for his old enemy's immediate execution - but Rufus Shinra, determined to reform the image of the new Shinra Electric Company and earn the goodwill of a population tired of violence, has other ideas.
1. Chapter 1: of spite and malice

**AN: **Thanks to Draskol for a great, thorough beta - and for answering all my timeline questions, because I'm horrible at math xDD Chapter titles are taken from Placebo songs, because I swear that band ships Seph/Cloud. Thanks for reading!

_Prologue_

Dorian hated working the night shift in Old Midgar. It was creepy as fuck, for one, and nothing interesting ever happened, for another. Not that he wanted it to. He might be a ShinRa guard with a fancy stun weapon (no more guns that killed folks, Shinra was _a different kind of company_ now, or so all the training videos said), but the only time he'd had to use it was against a stray cat.

He felt bad about that, actually. Bad enough that the cat was now living the good life, purring away at home in front of the fire with the missus. Dorian had named the cat Stunner, thinking it was funny, but his wife called the thing _puffball_ or something. Whatever.

He was making his rounds, a seemingly endless and boring loop around the old Shinra Tower and what was left of the block, trying not to yawn. Sometimes he wondered what it would have been like, to have this job in the old days. Back then the guns were real, and everybody knew you didn't fuck with ShinRa or anyone who worked for them. Dorian straightened up, aiming the gun into the dimly-lit shadows and pretending he was a badass SOLDIER with glowing eyes.

"Hands up, scum," he said, just to hear himself say it. The echo of his voice made him blush a little, and he lowered the gun. He'd felt guilty over stunning a cat, did he really think he could just walk around shooting people dead?

Sighing, Dorian turned to make his loop again, deciding he'd do it a few more times before settling down to eat the dinner his wife had packed for him. Maybe he could even read a few chapters of his book. There weren't very many lights anymore in Old Midgar, but a few spotlights still swept the perimeter at odd intervals. Sometimes you could find a spot where they crossed just right, every few seconds. Normal people might find it hard to read in that light, but Dorian was a slow reader, so that worked out just fine.

He was heading back towards the Tower when he saw something moving in the shadows. His eyes widened as a figure strode through the darkness, the occasional spill of light reflecting off a long fall of silver hair.

"Hey," Dorian called, clearing his throat. He tried to sound authoritative. "Hey, now, you know you shouldn't be here, so...just get." It was pretty much the same thing he'd said to the cat.

The figure stopped, and Dorian fumbled for his gun. The first switch powered on a flare light, which sent an immediate message back to HQ that something had been spotted. They should radio him for a report soon, but since the last time he'd done this it'd been because of a cat, Dorian wasn't sure how soon they'd get around to it, once they realized _he_ was the guard on duty.

He flashed the light towards the figure, but it was gone.

Blinking, Dorian wondered if he was seeing things. He lowered his weapon. What was he going to say when they asked him why he'd activated the flare light? Turning, he found himself staring straight up into a pair of glowing, slitted green eyes. A man regarded him with a pitiless expression, and - w-was that a _sword_ on the man's back?

Dorian barely had time to press the alarm button on his gun before a gloved hand shot out, and leather-clad fingers wrapped tight around his throat.

Chapter One: Spite and Malice

The new headquarters of the ShinRa Electric Power Company looked nothing like the old one. It was sleek and modern, one huge sprawling complex made of steel beams and sparkling glass. There were no secret underground laboratories, no inaccessible floors, no penthouse apartment from which the exalted ruler could sit and view his domain, out of the reach of mere mortals.

It was said that Rufus Shinra's office was right in the sprawling heart of the building, glass-enclosed like everyone else's. The bright spring sun reflecting off of the glass, Cloud Strife thought _it would be a tactical error to put him in the corner with nothing but glass separating him from the masses._

Maybe that was unfair of him. Cloud and Rufus had, for the most part, set aside their differences in the wake of the Deepground crisis, which had made ruins of what remained of the old ShinRa Tower. The ruins that were still visible, even now, some six years later; a broken skeleton of bones shadowed against a bright sky.

Cloud wondered if Rufus intended the new ShinrR to be built in the shadows of his father's empire. If he intended it as some sort of warning to himself, a reminder of what could happen if he tried to reach too high. Then again, Rufus might just like looking at it so he could gloat. It was hard to tell with him.

Cloud went inside, shoving his goggles up. The place was busy, bustling almost, and say what you would about the corporation - it was providing both stability and jobs to the population, which had been a godsend after the Tsviets nearly destroyed the fledgling city.

Midgar was gradually being restored, very slowly, as if the people were hesitant to put their trust in such things as _personal safety_. Cloud couldn't blame them. He'd found it hard to put his trust in anything, for a very long time. Six years of relative peace and prosperity hadn't exactly changed that.

He walked through the bustling center of the ShinRa Building, towards the center where a large information desk stood, a semicircle of gleaming wood staffed by more than half a dozen smiling employees.

Rufus wasn't stupid. The place might look like you had free rein to wander around, but you still had to be escorted if you wanted to visit any of the senior executives.

"Hi, can I help you?"

Cloud blinked at the voice, and found himself looking at a young woman with blue hair and several piercings on her face. She was wearing a collar with spikes and something that looked like a mesh shirt with a skull on it, but her smile was warm and friendly. _Oh yeah_, Cloud thought. _ShinRa's other initiative._ The company wanted to encourage individuality among its staff, a mission it touted constantly on television: ShinRa Electric - It's Your Company, or something like that ...

"I'm here to see Rufus," Cloud said. He took a perverse glee in not calling the man _President Shinra_, petty though it may be.

The girl smiled and picked up the phone by her station. "Hi, a Mr. Strife to see President Shinra." The girl met Cloud's eyes and immediately blushed, realizing that he hadn't even said his name before she made her call. Which meant she recognized him.

Cloud didn't mind being recognized as much as he minded people trying to make excuses for recognizing him in the first place. She stammered an embarrassed apology but Cloud just nodded and said, "It's all right," because he'd long since learned that when he tried to make people feel better, the opposite usually happened.

Tifa said if he wanted to be less recognizable, he could cut his hair - but Cloud had tried that, once, a long time ago when he was a teenager in Nibelheim. Sure, he hadn't had a professional do it, but it still left him with unruly tufts sticking up like baby chocobo feathers. That would look even more ridiculous on a twenty-eight year old man than a twelve year old kid, so he left it alone.

A few seconds later, a familiar blonde-haired female in a dark suit appeared next to him. There were a few things about Shinra that hadn't changed, the Turks in their somber attire and Rufus in his trademark black-and-white being two of them. Turks used to blend in, when ShinRa was crawling with executives in suits and ties. Now, against a tapestry of color and quirky individualism, they stood out in stark relief. It was probably intentional.

"Strife," said Elena, nodding at him. Her hair was fashionably short, framing her small, delicate features. Appearances were definitely deceiving, though; the woman was as tenacious as a bulldog and as deadly as a rattlesnake. Cloud knew her a little better than most of her fellow Turks, since she was dating Tifa. Cloud didn't necessarily like what she did for a living, but as long as Tifa was happy, Cloud kept his peace on the matter.

He liked her well enough, as much as he liked anyone and especially as much as he liked any of her associates. That was probably why Rufus sent her to escort him in the first place.

"Elena." He gave her a slight nod and followed her around the side of the desk, watching her flash an ID card at a small, discreet scanner set waist-high against the paneling. There were no immediate doors in the vicinity, and he wondered what exactly in unlocked. He didn't ask.

Rufus's office was in the center of the complex, which was still a ways past the entrance. The amount of people milling around diminished significantly, making Cloud think most of the openness was simply for show. It made him relax somewhat as they walked. He couldn't find any fault with Rufus's desire to escape the crowds, not when he himself shared it.

"Rufus will be here in a few minutes," Elena said, gesturing him into the office. "Need anything?"

Cloud shook his head and gave her a small smile. "I know better than to ask you for coffee, Elena."

She snorted, rolling her eyes. "If it were anyone else but you, I'd kick them in kneecaps. Not because I like you enough to go get it, because I'd still send someone else. You're too tactless to mean them as insults."

Cloud blinked at her, then found himself smiling a little easier. "It does take people a while to get that about me," he said, and she gave a short laugh and nodded at him before heading out and closing the door behind her.

Cloud wondered if it was locked, but he doubted it. He also doubted the material surrounding Rufus's centrally-located office was really glass, and he rapped his knuckles lightly on the surface to see. It was probably bulletproof. Then again, Rufus was really fond of his shotgun, so maybe it wasn't, since he might have to shoot his way out of here. ShinRa's new, off-site science department was big on sustainable living and reusable materials, and Cloud noticed that whatever the hell it was, it was possible to hang pictures from it.

Rufus's selection of images were interesting. One, Cloud noticed with a slight twist to his mouth, had him on it; it was a medal ceremony conducted shortly after Advent Day, with him shaking the President's hand. The others were far more interesting, including one that had to be Rufus as a child with a woman who was undoubtedly his mother. Rufus looked more like her than he did his father, though Cloud's memory of Shinra, Sr. was hazy indeed. There were no photographs of _him_ anywhere, but Cloud didn't think there would be.

The others were scenic shots, including one of the Meteor statue and another of the blueprints for the current building. Cloud shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn't like being in this glass-or-whatever-it-was enclosed space. It made him feel like he was on display.

He wandered over to Rufus's desk, noting there were other pictures there as well. One was of Rufus with the Turks at some Wutainese restaurant; everyone, even Tseng, was smiling at the camera. The other framed photograph, to Cloud's surprise, was of Reno sprawled in a lounge chair at Costa Del Sol, dressed in his Turk suit and holding a tropical drink in one hand. He was making a finger gun at the camera with the other hand, giving it an exaggerated wink and a grin.

Cloud reached out and took the picture in his hand, bringing it closer. Reno looked - maybe not _young_, exactly, but innocent in a way that made Cloud think it was before Meteorfall. There was something missing from his expression, no hardening of the features that inevitably came along with watching the world almost end.

Rufus's relationship with the Turk wasn't exactly a secret, but they certainly didn't act as if it were "official", so it was strange to see the picture on Rufus's desk. Then again, facing global extinction twice in a decade might make someone a bit less reticent to admit affection for other people. Cloud wasn't sure, as it would take more than armageddon to make him comfortable with such things.

"I think he was on the clock when that was taken," a smooth voice said. "I keep it to remind myself not to send him to nice places on assignment, or I'll lose money." Cloud flushed in embarrassment. He put the framed photograph back quickly, stepping back from Rufus's desk and turning towards the other man.

Rufus was his usual elegant self, not a blond hair out of place, his suit immaculate and made of crisp, clean lines. He wore the sharper features that came with both age and experience very well, maintaining enough of that almost pretty, angelic countenance to make him a very attractive man.

The fact he was attracted to Rufus Shinra always dismayed Cloud, mainly because he didn't understand why he always wanted people he shouldn't. It made him feel both awkward and combative.

"You have a delivery?" he said gruffly, looking away. He wondered if Rufus understood more than Cloud wanted him to about why he was always ready to break things when they were in a room together.

"No." Rufus shook his head, and Cloud noticed he was still standing by the doorway to his office.

"You said you had a job for me, though. Or that's what Reno said, when he called." Cloud tried to relax his posture, tired of how saving the world was more familiar to him than conducting conversations with attractive men. "Need me to battle monsters or ghosts or something again?"

Rufus cleared his throat. "Actually…"

Cloud stared at him, lingering feelings of attraction vanishing instantly in a reminder that this man's company, whether at his behest or not, had been indirectly responsible in some manner for the world nearly ending. Twice. "You're kidding me."

"It's not quite so dire as whatever you're thinking," Rufus assured him, in that smooth voice of his that told Cloud it was exactly _that_ dire. "But I feel I need to warn you ahead of time that you might be...displeased."

In Rufus's politician-speak, _displeased_ probably meant Cloud was going to have a rage blackout. He could feel the weight of his sword at his back, because not even the President of ShinRa Electric would ask Cloud Strife to disarm before entering a room. Most people figured they were better safe than sorry.

"Rufus, what did you do?" Cloud asked.

"Nothing," Rufus said, his eyes too wide to be believable.

"You stopped being able to pull off that look after you jumped off a building with a shotgun," Cloud told him. That irritating flare of attraction was back again, but Cloud couldn't help it. That had seemed like something Zack would do, although the arrogance implied in the gesture - of the _someone will make sure to catch me_ kind - that was all Rufus Shinra.

Rufus gave Cloud a small, pleased smile. "Did I?"

Cloud glared. "What is it? The longer you keep stalling, the more irritated I'm getting."

"That would sound like a threat, Cloud, if you were the type to take your anger out on innocent bystanders."

Cloud bared his teeth. "Good thing there aren't any around, then."

"Yes," Rufus said, smiling wider. "Good thing there aren't. Come along, Cloud. It'd be easier to show you than to explain."

"I'm going to be really mad about this, aren't I," Cloud said, as he gave up and followed Rufus towards the door.

"Probably." Rufus waited politely for him to leave first, but Cloud didn't want the other man at his back so he hesitated before going through the door. Rufus rolled his eyes. "Your paranoia isn't necessary, Strife. I brought you here because I need your help, not because I want to trap you or shoot you in the back."

Annoyed, Cloud glared at him again. "First, I'm not _afraid_ of you, Shinra, I'm just being cautious because I don't trust you. Second, the last time you asked me for help -" Cloud stopped, a horrible idea taking root in his brain. "Just tell me it has nothing to do with…_him_."

There was no need to say who _he_ was.

_I will never be a memory._

Rufus's hand settled on Cloud's shoulder, bringing Cloud's scattered attention back to the present. "You might possibly be frightening my staff," he said. "It would help if you would keep yourself together until we've got a bit more privacy."

Cloud exhaled, slowly. He nodded to Rufus and followed the man out of his office, down a hallway and towards a nondescript door next to a bathroom.

Rufus opened it with his keycard, and motioned Cloud through.

"Where are we going?" Cloud asked. "I swear to Shiva, Rufus, if you have some kind of lab down here…."

He trailed off as they approached a massive underground tunnel. "Rufus."

"It's not what you think," Rufus said. His white suit and fair hair made him appear momentarily backlit against the dank, grey stone. "This is a transport system, nothing more. When we were building the headquarters, we needed a way to bring materials to and from the work site without clogging up traffic. It was three years ago, remember, and the highway infrastructure wasn't as good as it is now."

"The highway infrastructure still sucks," said Cloud.

"Yes, so recall how it was three years ago." He gestured at a large garage door. "That leads to a ramp thatcomes out on Gainsborough Drive. If you don't believe me, I'll have it opened and you can see for yourself."

Cloud had forgotten they'd named a street after Aerith. He wondered if she would like that or not, being immortalized in traffic reports. Her church was restored and was one of the few places in Midgar where people felt safe going. It was something of a shrine, and Cloud hoped it would stay that way, if only to keep it from being vandalized or destroyed. People had notoriously short memories.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "Just tell me where we're going already."

"Do you remember where we got most of the supplies to build the new ShinRa building from?"

"I know what you said on television," Cloud replied. "I don't know if it's the truth or not."

Rufus's smile was flint-edged sharp. "You give me more credit than I deserve, when it comes to being devious."

"Hmm," Cloud said. "You told everyone you got the building materials from Midgar." ShinRa was serious about protecting the planet they had almost, however indirectly, destroyed; there were initiatives to recycle, reuse, and convert all the scrap metal and rubble for use in Edge.

"We did." Rufus arched an eyebrow. "I don't know why you're determined to make me my father, Strife, but it's tiring."

"Don't play that card with me, Shinra," Cloud said. "You know I have reasons to think you're full of shit."

"Oh, I didn't say that I wasn't," Rufus agreed, flashing his shark's smile again. "But I'm not trying to rule the world like my father. I can promise you that."

"That doesn't exactly make me sleep better at night," Cloud said. "That why you make sure you can see what's left of the Tower from your office?"

Rufus came to a stop. "I suppose I do that for the same reason I keep photographs of people I care about on my desk."

"Which is?"

Rufus pulled a phone from his pocket. "Temperance, Cloud. Balance. I look at the old tower and remember that it's possible for anything you build to fall apart, and I look at my desk to remember the reasons why I don't want it to. All my father saw from his office was the sky, and there was never anything that kept him from reaching higher and higher until he finally fell."

Cloud blinked. He wasn't used to that kind of honesty from Rufus, and he felt momentarily as if he'd misjudged the man. "You understand why I don't believe you, don't you?"

"Of course." Rufus shot him a look. "It doesn't make your lack of trust any less irritating, but I understand."

Cloud actually smiled. "That's something, I guess."

Rufus smiled back, then raised his phone to his ear. "We're ready."

Cloud shifted on his feet, trying not to show his nerves or his unease at heading into a tunnel.

A few minutes later, the quiet was disrupted by the sound of a motor as headlights cut through the darkness. The vehicle was a standard-issue military jeep, with a familiar figure in a perpetually rumpled suit at the wheel. Reno's hair looked even brighter in the gloom and darkness of the tunnel. His expression, however, seemed a perfect match.

"Yo, Strife." Reno leaned over and opened the door, and Rufus climbed into the jeep. The fact that Reno didn't make a single other comment was worrisome. Apparently, whatever was waiting for them at the end of this little ride wasn't going to be pleasant.

He ignored Rufus's proffered hand and vaulted into the back of the jeep. No one spoke as the vehicle puttered away down the tunnel, the headlights illuminating nothing but endless black.

The jeep came to a halt a few moments later. Cloud opened his eyes, a pang of adrenaline and dread hitting him when he realized where they were. It seemed like no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite seem to avoid the place.

The underground portion of the old Shinra Tower wasn't in much better shape than the ruins above ground; the weight of the structure had collapsed during the exodus of the Deepground soldiers. The ground was littered with glass, piles of rubble and overturned furniture casting ominous shadows in the gloom. The former laboratory was full of enclaves that were clearly cells at one point, most of which had the doors torn off, or missing entirely.

Cloud's fingers twitched as he followed Rufus and Reno, navigating the haphazard piles of debris as they made their way deeper into the former lab. There was one section where the rubble had been cleared away, the floor swept clean of glass and the cell had not only a steel door, but a keypad that resembled the one from the new ShinRa building.

Cloud kept his hand on the hilt of of his weapon. Reno had casually dropped back, giving him a clear shot of Cloud's head, which meant that whatever was behind the door was probably gonna make Cloud want to put his sword through Rufus's neck.

"Cloud," Rufus said, pausing as he went to enter a combination on the keypad, "I need you to understand -"

"Just open the door, Rufus," Cloud said. He hated this place, hated the murmur of things that weren't human, hated that he could hear them.

Rufus exchanged a look with Reno, and then finished opening the door.

All it took was one glimpse of silver hair before Cloud was drawing his sword, turning on Rufus

"Rufus, you _idiot_," Cloud snarled, ignoring the man as he drew his sword and went immediately towards the glass that separated him from his arch-rival.

"Stand down, Strife," Reno drawled, his electro-mag in one hand and a pistol in another, both aimed right at Cloud. Rufus had a shotgun out, and Cloud was too furious to wonder where the fuck the man kept that weapon. Both men had their weapons pointed at Cloud's head. Turks shot to kill.

"Look at him, Cloud," Rufus said, jutting his chin towards the window. "He's not armed."

Cloud stared at the man behind the glass, waiting for that smirk, that _fucking smirk_ and that goddamn voice that haunted his nightmares -

Sephiroth was staring at him, but his usual smug arrogance was replaced by...confusion?

"You have ten seconds, Rufus," Cloud said, weapon still raised. "Ten seconds to tell me what the fuck is going on before I go in there and send that bastard back to the Lifestream."

Rufus was not a man who was known to squander opportunities, nor was he one to underestimate Cloud as an opponent; a fact that, in other circumstances, Cloud might actually appreciate. "A few nights ago, we received an alert from a guard on patrol in Old Midgar. He sounded quite flustered and claimed he'd come across a man claiming to be SOLDIER First Class Sephiroth. We were, of course, skeptical at first - especially given the man's record, he'd once sounded the alarm over a stray cat - ."

Cloud raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. "Five more seconds. Make them count."

Rufus sighed. "When we went to retrieve him, we found…" He paused, looking through the glass and sounding vaguely amused. "You know the first thing he asked us for was a situation report?"

"Rufus."

"He doesn't remember anything, Cloud. He has no idea what _year_ it is. The last thing he remembers before waking up in Midgar is being sent to Nibelheim with SOLDIER First Class Zack Fair."

Cloud laughed, the sound a bitter, jagged echo.

Rufus continued, eyes sharp on Cloud's face. "When certain facts of the situation were explained to him, he voluntarily surrendered both his weapon and himself for incarceration."

Cloud gave that same painful laugh and turned back to the partition. He moved closer, sword still drawn. Sephiroth stared back at him, that trace of confusion having been replaced with a cool, watchful stare.

_His eyes are normal,_ Cloud noted. The observation wasn'tt enough to make him lower his weapon. "And that made you believe that he was telling the truth?"

"Of course not," Rufus huffed. "But it was enough for me to authorize his captivity while I figured this out."

"And how are you planning to do that, exactly?" Cloud demanded. "What kind of evidence is enough to overcome your common fucking sense, Rufus?"

"For one, how he reacted to seeing you," Rufus said, as if he were discussing a business merger.

Before Cloud could tell Rufus how monumentally stupid he was, Sephiroth spoke, his voice filling up that small space with its usual resonance. That voice, the one Cloud heard sometimes in that place suspended between sleep and wakefulness, the dim place of dreams where things were kept hidden from the light.

That voice, which was not addressed to him, but to Rufus. Even Sephiroth's arsenic eyes were turned towards the young ShinRa president. "I'm guessing whoever this is, he's not a member of my fan club?"

"You don't recognize this man?" Rufus asked.

Sephiroth turned back towards Cloud. Cloud froze.

_Good to see you, Cloud._

A faint frown of concentration marred Sephiroth's brow as they studied each other. He cocked his head, some of his hair falling into his eyes, and reached up with one hand to brush it out of his field of vision.

In all the times they'd faced each other, in all the battles they'd fought, Cloud had never, _ever_ seen Sephiroth push his hair out of his face. His hair never seemed to _get_ in his face in the first place, as if it were too well-trained to do such a thing.

His eyes lingered on Cloud's sword, and Cloud saw a flash of interest flit across his face. Interest, but no real recognition for either the sword or the man who wielded it.

Sephiroth looked next atCloud's hair. When he spoke, he did so slowly and with a hesitance Cloud had never, _ever_ heard come out of his mouth, "You were a guardsman. A friend of Zack Fair's, I seem to recall."

Cloud remembered kneeling in the rain with Zack's blood in his hair, his fingers going slack as he pressed the hilt of his sword into Cloud's trembling hands.

"Zack is dead," Cloud said, very clearly and without much inflection,before trying to put the whole of his sword through the partition, right into Sephiroth's heart.

ShinRa engineering prevailed, however; the partition cracked as Cloud's sword screeched across the glass, but the bane of his existence remained unscathed.

"Open it," Cloud said. The words felt heavy in his mouth, he could barely think to get them out in the first place. "I'm going to kill him."

"No," Rufus said, very softly. "At least, not until I've decided what the best course of action is. Do you think he's lying?"

"It's _Sephiroth_."

"Yes, I know that, Cloud. But as far as I've been able to tell from my research, Sephiroth wasn't one for lying -"

"In your _research_?" Cloud said, rounding on him. He shot Reno a warning glare. "Don't shoot me until I have a chance to yell at him."

"Okay," Reno said, agreeably enough, the weapon still trained on Cloud's head in a display of exemplary professionalism. "Throw in a _you're being a moron_ for me, too, yeah?"

"Your opinion has been noted, Reno," Rufus said, a touch of warning in his voice. His eyes didn't waver from Cloud's face. "Many times. And yes, Strife, my research. I've spent the last few days going over some records, trying to understand what we're dealing with. A gardener doesn't just hack away at plants that show up in his garden, Cloud, until he knows what they are."

"That's not one of your best metaphors, _shachou_," Reno said. "You don't even like taking care of house plants."

"Rufus, that _thing_ in there is a weed and it will kill all the other plants if you don't get rid of it."

"So does that make you the lawnmower, Strife?" Reno cleared his throat. "Sorry. S'just. I don't know shit about gardens, but I'm starting to feel left out, here."

"The point is," Cloud continued, raising his voice. "You know what he's capable of, and if you think for _one second_ -"

"Did I kill him?"

Sephiroth's voice stopped Cloud cold. He looked over his shoulder. Sephiroth was watching him.

"Yes," Cloud said, eyes burning. _You might as well have._

Sephiroth merely nodded. "I see." He looked away, head tilted so his face was covered by the fall of his hair, and said nothing further.

Cloud turned on his heel and walked out of the room. He was convinced if he stayed there one second longer, someone was going to bleed.


	2. Lazarus

**Chapter Two: Lazarus**

Sephiroth watched the young man stalk out of the room, leaving Shinra and the Turk standing there frowning after him. He resisted the urge to start pacing the small perimeter of the cell, and instead pressed his fingers to his temples in an attempt to mitigate his headache. His head was throbbing and he still felt vaguely sick to his stomach, nauseous in a way that hinted at severe dehydration.

The state of Midgar and the ShinRa Tower told Sephiroth that something very bad had happened, and both his amnesia and the reactions of those he'd encountered suggested he was somehow responsible. So he'd voluntarily surrendered himself and his weapon, expecting to be escorted somewhere a bit less...spartan. Given the condition of the city, it was possible there was no alternative. Still, Shinra and his Turk both looked well enough, clean and adequately provisioned.

Even the angry young man in the SOLDIER uniform, whose name Sephiroth still couldn't recall, didn't appear to be suffering from malnourishment. Meaning they should be giving him food and water at the very least, and the fact that they weren't spoke volumes about their intentions and their perception of recent events.

They thought they couldn't trust him, because he was hiding something. Which was why, no matter how many times he asked, they wouldn't tell him the current date or even how much time had passed since he was sent to Nibelheim.

It had to have been more than five years, if Rufus Shinra's appearance was anything to go by. The last time Sephiroth saw him, Shinra had been in his late teens. His features had been softer, less defined. He had also been more of a brat, back then. His attitude seemed to have changed dramatically for the better, which was something of a relief. The man facing him through the glass bore little resemblance to the sullen young man of Sephiroth's memories.

"Are you certain you didn't recognize him?"

Rufus Shinra's voice was also nothing like his father's. The elder Shinra - who must be dead, as Sephiroth didn't think the man was the type to step down gracefully while still breathing- had been fond of raising his voice to command attention. It suddenly occurred to Sephiroth that Rufus reminded him quite strongly of Tseng. Not physically, of course, but there was a certain similarity in mannerisms, in Rufus's relaxed body language; even when he was holding a shotgun to someone's head, he didn't appear ruffled in the slightest. His voice, that quiet and yet commanding tone, was definitely indicative of the Turk's influence.

_Ah, Tseng. A very clever strategy, turning Rufus into a Turk before he became a president._

"No, I'm certain that I _did_ recognize him," Sephiroth said, and as calmly as he answered the question he couldn't help the way his mouth tightened. He tipped his head, hiding for a moment behind a veil of silver hair. Being stared at through glass reminded him unpleasantly of his childhood.

Sephiroth shook his head, dismissing the memories. "Am I permitted to know his name, Rufus?" Sephiroth realized his error and added, smoothly, "President Shinra. My apologies, it will take some time to get used to all the...changes."

Rufus snorted. "That was diplomatic of you. And here they said you weren't very good at diplomacy."

He hadn't been trying to be diplomatic. He was simply attempting to observe the proper protocols, though his patience was wearing thin at their lack of respect. "And did _they_ say where I might have been, the last few years?"

Rufus's smile turned sharp. Sephiroth wondered if the man had any idea he wore the Turks' tutelage like a uniform, as visible as that black-and-white suit he was always wearing when he visited Sephiroth's cell. "I know you're very curious, but I have to ask you to refrain from asking questions at the moment. You'll be briefed in due time, I promise you."

Sephiroth nodded, fingers clenched tight at his sides, feeling his nails bite through the leather of his gloves. He did not want to ask for water. He was stronger than that, he had endured far worse, and if Rufus insisted on interrogation tactics, then so be it.

Rufus was talking to the Turk again, a tall man with startlingly red hair whom Sephiroth remembered as Reno. He had clearly risen far in the organization, as he'd accompanied Rufus on every one of his visits. Sephiroth could not hear what they were saying; even with enhanced senses, the glass partition made it damnably hard to eavesdrop. He stood at ease, with his hands behind his back, fighting the wave of dizziness and the persistent clamoring of his body for water.

"We'll be back in a few hours. In the meantime, try to rest." Rufus's entire demeanor was professionalism at its finest; if he was taking any enjoyment from Sephiroth's condition, there wasn't a hint of it to be found. "Is there anything you require, in the meantime?"

"No."

"And you're sure you don't know the name of the man who just left?"

It wasn't surprising that Rufus was questioning him about the angry young man again. It was obvious he expected some sort of answer, and that he was disappointed in Sephiroth's inability to give it to him. Sephiroth wondered what it was, exactly, that Rufus wanted to hear.

Sephiroth raised his chin and made his words very clear and precise. "I will repeat myself once again. No, I do not know the name of the man who was in here. Only that he might have been an infantryman who was friends with SOLDIER First Class Zack Fair, but Zack was well-liked by everyone, so that hardly narrows down the field."

"Are you thirsty?"

Sephiroth actually smiled. "With all due respect, President Shinra, I would remind you that I'm quite well-versed in military torture and interrogation tactics, including sensory deprivation and restriction of food and water."

He did not add that he'd learned those from Hojo before he'd ever started his SOLDIER training.

"And if I was attempting such a thing?"

"It wouldn't change my answer in the slightest."

"Perhaps in a few hours you'll have changed your mind," Rufus said, smoothly. "Come along, Reno."

Sephiroth watched them leave, the lights following a few minutes later. It left him in the dark, unable to make out anything but the standard-issue military cot and the toilet in his room. He laughed. _Amateurs_.

Sephiroth lay down on his back on the cold stone floor. He closed his eyes, his fingers tangling in the back of his hair and pulling slightly, almost rhythmically, until he relaxed enough to separate his mind from his body, which needed things like water and sustenance and sleep.

It was something else he'd learned from Hojo, though mostly out of necessity. Hojo's treatments would have left him in screaming agony as a child if he hadn't figured out a way to divorce his mental self from his physical one. The key was being able to relax deeply enough. It was one reason why Sephiroth had fought like a wild animal every time Hojo had tried to cut his hair, because nothing had ever managed to relax him as quickly as his habit of twining his hair around his fingers and tugging.

Once, after some particularly painful and invasive procedure, Sephiroth had slowly drifted back to his trembling body and found he was still doing it, winding the strands around his fingers and tugging, over and over. Hojo was there, of course, with the ever-present clipboard in one hand and his pen in another. But he was watching Sephiroth with an odd expression on his face, and it took Sephiroth a moment to finally recognize it as an expression of pain.

Hojo had blinked, scowled, then snapped something or other and walked away, scribbling and muttering to himself as usual. It was the only time Sephiroth ever saw an expression like that on Hojo's face, but he never again said a single word to Sephiroth about his hair. Sephiroth had watched him very carefully after that, wanting to see if perhaps Hojo, who also wore his hair long, indulged in a similar habit. But Hojo's hair remained in its usual ponytail, utterly ignored, so it didn't seem likely that Sephiroth had learned it by observation.

Growing up, Sephiroth had heard plenty of whispers and rumors that Hojo was his father. Hojo was a brilliant scientist, and Sephiroth had some admiration for the man's tenacity and intelligence even if he despised him.

He'd confronted Hojo about it only once, asking _is it true you're my father?_ in the same sort of voice he'd use if he were asking a question about his homework assignment.

Hojo had stared at him with those flat, cold eyes of his and said, "What made you ask me such a thing? Has someone been telling you stories, boy? Gast? Who was it?"

Sephiroth kept his glee at angering Hojo locked safely away, so he could think about it later and not end up in a mako shower. "Everyone," he'd said, and instead of a teenage boy's sullenness it was simply the truth. He could start saying names, but Hojo wouldn't let him finish, he would only get angry and someone would disappear. Or Sephiroth would see them again, floating in a tank filled with mako and staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

Oddly, the answer seemed to have been the correct one, because Hojo calmed immediately and didn't demand any further information. He'd laughed that shrill laugh of his and said, "That's because I made you, Sephiroth. That's why they say that. Think of me as you will, but I suppose _creator_ is the same as father, hmm?"

It wasn't, but Sephiroth hadn't said that. He'd learned, by then, when to think things and when not to say them.

Sephiroth's fingers pulled a little harder. _It's not a good idea to think about Hojo if you want to relax,_ he told himself firmly. He did know that Hojo was dead, because the guard he'd come across that first night told him as much when Sephiroth inquired after his whereabouts. Sephiroth wasn't sure how he felt about that. It had been a long time since he'd interacted with the man.

He focused again on the twist-pull, twist-pull of his hair until his mind began to drift again, until he didn't feel the chill seeping through his leather coat, the hunger gnawing at him, or the dry, swollen thing his mouth had become.

Instead, he thought about Zack. Hoping that it would stir up memories of what happened, tell him if he'd really killed Zack after all, confirm if he'd really earned the hatred blazing from Cloud's sky-bright eyes -

_Cloud._

Sephiroth's eyes opened.


	3. Too Many Friends

**Chapter Three: Too Many Friends**

Cloud followed the obvious path of destruction until he was outside of the ShinRa Tower, and stood for a moment in the deserted street, looking up at what was left of the building. When he'd first come here, desperate to prove himself as a SOLDIER, had he gazed up at the Tower and seen only the shining promise of future glory?

It was hard to imagine, if so. Both the Tower and the impressionable young kid he'd been were tarnished and cracked beyond repair. Looking at the ruins, all Cloud could see was fire and smoke, death and destruction. There was no glory in any of it. Maybe there never had been.

Cloud turned away and started walking down the empty streets, barely aware of where he was going. When he found himself in front of a familiar church, he wasn't entirely surprised. He always did tend to come here when the darkness of the past made it hard for him breathe.

Aerith's church was something of a shrine. The people didn't really understand what had healed them from the Geostigma, but they understood the Planet was responsible, and knew it'd happened here. People saw it as a place to ask for forgiveness, to bring offerings and quiet words of gratitude. On the one hand, he was glad because he knew Aerith would like that; she'd always been compassionate to just about anyone.

On the other hand, Cloud resented the fact it wasn't a quiet sanctuary to which he could escape anymore, a place he could be alone with his thoughts. Nowadays, he had to pay five gil to enter.

There was a young girl in the front of the church selling flowers. Cloud bought one, mumbled his thanks and declined going inside to put it in the water as was the custom. He inhaled it instead, seeking some comfort from the scent of it and finding none.

The petals of the flower were soft against his cheek. _What does it mean that Sephiroth is back, and I can't hear either of you? _There was a voice that said _you've failed them and that's why you don't hear them anymore,_ but Cloud ignored it.

There was an old woman crouched in the alley next to the church, wearing rags and muttering to herself. Midgar had always been home to a transient population of unfortunate individuals, especially in the slums. That there were no more slums, that there was no more _Midgar_, didn't seem to matter one little bit.

Cloud met the woman's eyes. She nodded, and he gave her the flower without a word.

She took it, muttering something that sounded like, "There's more than one way out of a maze."

Cloud blinked, confused, wondering if he'd heard her correctly. She was old, and the lack of teeth made it hard to understand her words. "Huh?" No one had ever accused him of eloquence.

The woman blinked, then scowled. Then she shrieked that Cloud should give her money, not flowers, and tried to throw a rock at him. The last thing he saw was her trying to eat the flower, and then spitting it on the ground in disgust.

_If that's a sign or something, Aerith, you're going to have to be a lot less subtle because I totally don't get it._

As usual, there was no answer.

* * *

Seventh Heaven was open by the time Cloud got back to Edge, but only barely. There were already a few customers inside. Apparently it was never too early to start drinking. Cloud couldn't blame them, not after the day he'd had.

Tifa gave him a smile and a wave from behind the bar, and he noticed how the lines of tension around her eyes, that sadness that had seemed so long a part of her, were finally starting to fade. It was nearly unthinkable to him that it was because of _Elena_, but he couldn't deny that Tifa's relationship with the other woman had certainly helped put a smile on her face.

Cloud wondered if he should tell her about Sephiroth.

_I seem to recall you were friendly with SOLDIER First Class Zack Fair._

Not once, in all the times they'd faced each other since Nibelheim, had Sephiroth ever mentioned Zack.

_What if he isn't lying?_ whispered that traitorous voice in his head. _What if he's not lying, and what if there's a chance he's the man he was before he went insane at Nibelheim?_

Zack would want him to try, Cloud knew that. Zack never gave up on anyone - if he had, Cloud wouldn't be here. Zack had faced down a barrage of bullets with a raised sword and a _fuck you_ grin, and he was the bravest man Cloud had ever met. Sephiroth might have been Cloud's hero when he first joined ShinRa, but it wasn't long before that distinction went to Zack.

Zack, who was dead now - had been dead, for almost ten years. He hadn't been there, in the Northern Crater. He hadn't been on the top of the old ShinRa building while the sky churned in a maelstrom of fury. He didn't know what kind of monster Sephiroth had become, how all that power and grace and terrible, terrible beauty had been twisted by rage.

If Nibelheim was enough for Zack to tell Cloud to finish him off, what would Zack say _now_, if he knew the rest of it?

Cloud climbed the steps to his room, not wanting to explain to Tifa where he'd been. He felt like a coward, but he was also tired of constantly being some harbinger of doom, a crow of ill-omen that only knew one song.

He looked at himself in the mirror over the small dresser in his room. Even beneath the mako glow, his eyes seemed dull. The skin beneath them was darkened by exhaustion. His hair looked even more ridiculous than usual.

_So maybe I'm more like a chocobo of ill-omen,_ he thought, smiling humorlessly.

Sephiroth had looked tired, too. In all their improbable encounters, Cloud had never noticed Sephiroth looking anything but crazy.

Scowling, he raked a hand through his messy spikes and turned away from the mirror. Nothing in his reflection was going to give him the answers.

Cloud told himself to go see Tifa, but instead he went to lie down on his bed. He stared at the ceiling, arguing with himself about why he should tell her about Sephiroth, why he shouldn't - and somewhere in the middle of arguing with himself, he fell asleep.

His dreams were uneasy, tinged with a haze like a mako tank. Cloud couldn't remember the last time he'd been privileged enough to sleep without dreams.

A few hours later, he woke up with a start as Tifa shook him awake with a very loud, _Cloud Strife_!

"I was going to tell you!" Cloud said, sitting up and trying to calm his racing heart. From the corner of his eye, he saw Elena leaning against the doorway and smirking.

Great.

Tifa made a disparaging sound. "Uh-huh. Sure you were."

"I was!" Cloud shook his head, trying to get his bearings. "I, um. I was thinking about….how to do that, and I fell asleep." Absurd, but mostly true.

Tifa hit him on the shoulder. Not gently, either. "Idiot. When are you going to believe me when I tell you that you don't have to protect me all the time? Cloud, we're not ten years old anymore." Her hand reached out as if she were going to smooth his hair back, but he flinched on instinct and she dropped it at the last second.

"Tifa," he said, unable to vocalize anything he was feeling at the moment; how he was sorry he didn't tell her, how he was tired of being the one who made her look just like she did right now, stooped shoulders and lowered eyes. Disappointed.

It only lasted a moment, and then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, scowling at him again. "I know. Cloud, I _know_. I just...why would you think I wouldn't want to know that Sephiroth was back?"

Chills raced up and down Cloud's spine at the words. He shot Elena a glower. "Maybe I knew someone else would tell you, first."

"Oh, don't give me that shit, Strife," Elena said. "Of course I told her. She's my girlfriend, the man is a potential threat. I don't have to drown in angst or take a nap for two hours to figure out she should probably know about it."

Cloud opened his mouth, but she had a point. "Tell that to Rufus," he said. "He doesn't think the man is a threat at all."

"Of course he does," Elena said. "Why do you think Rufus wanted you to know that Sephiroth was in custody? He never would have brought you into it at all, if he didn't think Sephiroth wouldn't need to be put down at some point."

"If?" Tifa's voice was incredulous. "_If_?"

"Yeah, Rufus thinks there's a good reason to keep him around."

Cloud shot Elena a dark look. "He didn't happen to tell you what those were, did he?"

Elena just shrugged. "The president has his reasons."

"Which are?" Tifa demanded, standing up and whirling on her girlfriend with hands on her hips.

"Not mine to share," Elena said.  
"That means you think they're stupid, doesn't it?"

At Tifa's bluntly spoken declaration, Elena's fair features colored a little. "It's not my call to make, Tifa."

"There shouldn't even be a call _to_ make," Tifa said, a statement with which Cloud wholeheartedly agreed. Also, he was glad that Tifa seemed to be mad at Rufus now, instead of at him.

"He wants to see you," Elena told Cloud, as if reading his mind. "President Shinra, I mean."

"I'll bet he does." Cloud smiled grimly. "Tell him unless he wants me to _put Sephiroth down_, I'm not interested."

"I'll relay the message," Elena promised, then looked at her girlfriend. "Tif, I'm going to go change, okay? I'll meet you in twenty minutes."

Tifa nodded, and they were quiet after she left the room. Cloud steeled himself for what he knew was coming, which was undoubtedly a conversation involving his feelings. Fuck.

"Why _wouldn't_ you tell me, Cloud?"

"I didn't want to upset you."

"_You're_ not upsetting me." She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. "I wish you would just talk to me, instead of getting all worked up about...talking to me."

"Then you might as well wish I was a different person," Cloud said, and she laughed, even though he wasn't really joking.

She straightened, smoothing a hand over her skirt (which had gotten shorter, and her tops tighter, since Elena) and regarded him solemnly. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," he said. "Go and see what Rufus wants, I guess. Maybe kill Sephiroth."

Cloud stared out of the window, at the streetlights as they trembled to life. There weren't that many, a mere fraction of how bright the streets used to be in Midgar. Energy reserves were far more precious, now. "Isn't that what I should do?"

Tifa stepped up behind him and rubbed a comforting hand on his back. This time, he didn't flinch from the touch. "You know how I feel about him. But killing someone for something they didn't do...doesn't that make us just as bad as him?"

"Not remembering and not doing something aren't the same thing, though," Cloud pointed out. He turned to look at her, eyes searching hers for answers. "Besides. That's _if_ he's telling the truth, about not remembering."

She nodded. "I'm not saying you shouldn't kill him. I'm just tired of fighting ghosts, I guess. They never go away, but we keep doing it, over and over, even though it doesn't matter."

The old woman's words from in front of Aerith's church echoed in Cloud's mind. _There's more than one way out of the maze._

Outside, a streetlight flared into sudden, bright life. It was either a sign, or a remarkable coincidence of timing. Either way, it set Cloud back to thinking too much, and he barely gave notice as Tifa left him to it, shutting the door quietly behind her.


	4. Devil in the Details

**AN: **Thank you so much to everyone who is reading and leaving me such nice feedback! In this chapter, Sephiroth learns about his past, his parents, and why exactly Cloud Strife hates him so much. I appreciate the kind reviews and I hope you continue to enjoy the story! :D

**Chapter 4: Devil in the Details **

****Along with food and water, they brought him a newspaper.

Sephiroth sat on his cot, sipping the water and resisting the urge to gulp it down. He resisted the same urge to devour the food that accompanied it, fresh fruit and soup and bread. He knew from experience that to do anything else would only make him sick.

That, and he was dizzy enough from finally learning the date. Ten years had passed since he'd told Zack Fair to assemble a team and meet him on the SOLDIER floor for their mission to Nibelheim. Ten _years_. What was left of Midgar was now called Edge, and while he wasn't sure why, he had a feeling he was going to find out sooner rather than later.

Sephiroth read the entire paper, mostly out of boredom. He tried doing the crossword puzzle, an admittedly difficult task to accomplish without a pen. Still, it gave his mind something to do, a logical problem on which to focus, which was a welcome respite.

The next day, Rufus and two of his Turks brought Sephiroth a barrage of reading materials; along with a small writing desk and chair, an empty notebook and an assortment of pens (the presentation of which made Sephiroth glance at the discarded newspaper and sigh), and plenty of food and water.

Rufus also left him a two-way communication device. "When you're finished with the materials, and have had a chance to...absorb the information, you are to contact me so that we may make arrangements to transport you somewhere more comfortable. It's very important you realize that, unless you want to rot away in this cell in the dark, _you_ need to contact _me_. It will not happen any other way. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Rufus nodded. "Good." He stood up, regarded Sephiroth for a long moment in silence.

Sephiroth regarded him steadily right back, eventually raising one eyebrow in a wordless query.

"I barely remember you, from before," Rufus said, and he sounded surprisingly candid, no longer the smooth, carmel-voiced politician. "I always saw you as a...well. You were never quite human to me, and I understand that's because you weren't supposed to be seen that way. For what it's worth, I'm sorry for what my father's company did to you, Sephiroth. It doesn't change or even excuse anything, but I still want you to know that."

Sephiroth had no idea what to say to that. He just nodded, though he didn't particularly understand, and watched Rufus and the others leave.

Alone, he turned and glanced at the small desk and the materials arranged thereon. All of his missing memories, waiting to be discovered.

A sense of unease settled around him as he pulled out the chair, and he had the briefest urge to take one of the pens and fill out the crossword puzzle instead. But his curiosity eventually overcame the dread, and he was tired of everyone else knowing more about the last ten years of his life than he did.

That, and one of Rufus's lapdogs had taken the paper with the crossword puzzle. Of course.

* * *

The information about his missing years was contained in various file folders, each labeled with names or incidents, such as _The Situation at Nibelheim_ and _Deepground and the Ultimate Weapon_. They sounded like the titles of late-night movies, the kind Angeal used to watch when he couldn't sleep.

(_How does watching monster movies help you sleep?_ Sephiroth asked him, once, when he came across Angeal on the sofa, staring mindlessly at one such movie at two in the morning.

_I don't know_, Angeal had said, smiling a little. _I guess somehow it helps because the good guys always win in the end._)

There were also a few books, with titles like _On a Mako Sunrise - How a Small Company Came to Rule the World_, _Towers and Tribulations - The Decline of ShinRa's Supremacy in the West_, and, Sephiroth's personal favorite, _In The Shadows of the Reactor - How ShinRa Orchestrated the Wutai War, and Other Dark Truths of the World's Most Powerful Company_.

Those books seemed to be intended for consumption by the general population, as the others were more academically-oriented. They had titles such as; _Red, Silver and Black - The Use of Color as Propaganda In the Wutai War_, _The Silver Elite - An Analysis of SOLDIER Fan Clubs and Their Purpose_ and _ShinRa's SOLDIERs - An Examination of Genetic Terrorism, Foreign Conflict and Xenophobia._

The titles made him roll his eyes, but the message he took from the existence of these publications was that ShinRa - at least, the ShinRa Sephiroth had known - was now something to be studied, examined, taken apart. The world as he'd known it had become history.

Sephiroth divided the files into two piles: one that started with Nibelheim and his missing immediate past, and one with everything prior to that that he remembered. He sorted the files accordingly, and began to read.

He read through everything once, then opened the notebook he'd been given and wrote down his immediate reaction.

He noted with a frown that his hands were shaking, slightly. That was unacceptable. As was his penmanship, affected by the tremor in his hands, though the words themselves were easy enough to read.

_I was a failure._

Sephiroth knew what happened to those specimens marked as failures, because Hojo made him watch as they were stripped down into raw materials, screaming and without the benefit of anesthesia.

At the time, he hadn't really understood he was watching living things, humans and animals with souls and a consciousness, being slaughtered on the altar of Hojo's mad genius.

Hojo, his father. There it was, laid out in black and white text and relevant DNA results, which left little room for error. There were also photographs, which Sephiroth spent a good deal of time studying; but no matter how hard he tried, he could see little resemblance, at least physically, between the two of them. Other than a slight similarity in their profiles and facial structures, it would seem as if he inherited most of his physical features from his mother.

His _mother_. Lucrecia Crescent, a scientist who was - as improbable as it seemed - married to Hojo. Sephiroth stared at her photographs until his eyes burned with the need to blink. Her hair was long, like his, and she had the same cowlicks at her temples that caused her hair to stick up on either side of her forehead. There was a delicateness in her features that he saw in his own; the shape of her mouth, the tilt of her nose. This was his mother, and no one had ever told him so much as her name.

Even his father had never treated him as anything more than a laboratory experiment.

Sephiroth remembered how sometimes Hojo would look at him, a gleam in his eyes and an expression somewhere between obsession and reverence on his face, and that made him wonder if maybe, to Hojo, being a _creation_ was somehow better than a son.

There were a few other pictures in the folder, of both his mother and his father (how strange, to think he had parents, human parents, like everyone else), though there was only one with the two of them together. At first it struck him as a rather boring photograph of an unremarkable scene, as if someone had walked into the room and snapped a picture the second they looked up.

But on closer examination, Sephiroth noticed that Hojo - who, he was surprised to see, was smoking a cigarette - wasn't looking at the camera, but rather over at Lucrecia. In this photograph of a younger Hojo, the similarities in their profiles were more pronounced. Hojo was either smiling or smirking, it was hard to tell.

Sephiroth's eyes were drawn back to Lucrecia. She was looking down, but he could see that she was smiling, a small, reserved smile that looked exactly like his own. She had one hand on her stomach, and the other was twined in her ponytail, which was pulled over her shoulder. He could see the strands of her hair wrapped around her fingers.

She was tugging her hair.

Sephiroth flipped the picture over. Someone had written _L: 3 mos._ on the back. Sephiroth knew the handwriting. He'd seen it often enough growing up, on clipboards and in files, on notes haphazardly stuck around the laboratory.

His mother was three months pregnant with him, in this photograph.

Was Hojo taking this picture to document his wife's pregnancy, because she was his wife or because their child was an experiment?

_It doesn't matter,_ he told himself, firmly. They were scientists who bred you to be a weapon. ShinRa is the only father and mother you've ever known. Don't make these people something they're not, just so you feel more like a human.

Rufus Shinra's words echoed briefly in his mind. _You were never quite human to me._

Sephiroth forced himself to focus on the materials again, and again, until he was able to read through them without his hands shaking, without his handwriting betraying any hint of the sudden rush of nerves caused from his revelations. Only then did he start making notes in the files.

The first correction he made was to the date of his birth, which was listed as _unknown_. He knew the date, but not the year, only because Genesis found out and told him what it was - via a surprise birthday party. Angeal had made Sephiroth a cake. Sephiroth remembered the evening very well, both the cake and what happened afterwards. He'd never celebrated his birthday again, but he remembered the date regardless.

It occurred to him that Genesis might have made the entire thing up; in fact, he couldn't imagine Hojo leaving a file around with that information on it, which was how Genesis claimed to have learned the date in the first place. But Sephiroth did not change the correction on the file. It was as good a date as any.

The other was a bit of conjecture about his sexual history, which posited he was either asexual or under the influence of drugs that effectively nullified his sex drive. That one made his eyebrows raise, and he tapped the edge of his pen on the desk before writing, _I simply learned to carry out my affairs in regards to such matters with discretion_, in the margins.

It was mentioned that he was friends with Genesis Rhapsodos and Angeal Hewley, who were themselves noted as being "romantically involved." Sephiroth's involvement was neither mentioned nor conjectured, and he preferred it that way. It hadn't really mattered in the end, the two of them had -despite any promises or assurances to the contrary - chosen each other over him.

There were pictures in the file of the three of them, in various combinations. Some were the normal sort of military photographs, but others were more personal. One was of him and Genesis, dressed in civilian clothes, outside in what looked to be downtown Midgar. Genesis was actually _smiling_ instead of smirking, for once. His arm was around Sephiroth's shoulders.

Sephiroth himself wasn't smiling in the photograph, but he was leaning towards Genesis slightly, and his shoulders were relaxed beneath the weight of Genesis's arm.

There was a picture of Sephiroth in a New Year's hat, in which he _was_ smiling, because it was the first and only time in his life he'd gotten drunk. The photograph had been taped up in Genesis's uniform locker, which Sephiroth hated, but he never wanted to give Genesis the satisfaction of complaining about it. Sephiroth's fingers rubbed over the remnants of tape on the top edge of the photograph, wondering if the rest was still stuck to the metal locker - before remembering there was no locker, the ShinRa SOLDIER floor was destroyed along with the rest of the Tower. The only thing left was this dank, underground cell in which he was currently residing.

There was a picture of him and Angeal at a ShinRa event, both of them in suits. Sephiroth looked uncomfortable, as he always was at those sorts of things. Angeal was giving the photographer a semi-threatening look, with his dark brows drawn together, but the slight smile on his face told Sephiroth exactly who the photographer must have been.

Angeal was holding a beer. Sephiroth was holding a glass of water in one hand, and red wine in the other. Holding Genesis's drink, so he could take the picture.

There was only one photograph of the three of them together. Sephiroth couldn't remember who took it, or why they'd done so, but he knew exactly where it'd come from. Angeal had it in a frame, in his apartment.

_In case I have to prove to anyone that you do know how to smile, Seph._

Someone must have taken the photograph out of the frame when Angeal defected and abandoned ShinRa. The thought of someone going through Angeal's apartment, cleaning it out and relegating things to filing cabinets, or throwing Angeal's plants into the dumpster - the plants he and Genesis always forgot to water when Angeal was on assignment - made him angry.

Sephiroth slammed the file shut. It didn't matter. That part of his life was over, even before he lost his memories.

There were not a lot of notes to make, when it came to the reports that filled in the missing gaps in his memory. He did note that Genesis Rhapsodos, when learning of his degradation, went back to Banora and killed his parents and a good number of the townspeople. The similarities between that and Sephiroth's own violent behavior in Nibelheim - which, he noted with some surprise, was technically _his_ hometown - were unavoidable. Sephiroth thought it was a failure on behalf of the archivist who had put together the materials, not to make mention of such a similarity.

He made a note in the margin to that effect.

As he read each successive report detailing his _delusions of grandeur_ (the phrase was offensive, as he had apparently nearly succeeding in ending the world _twice_ - which told him his actions, while indeed grand, were hardly _delusional_), he noticed one name that kept repeating itself, in conjunction with his own, as if the two were not able to exist separately of the other.

Cloud Strife.

The angry young man with the SOLDIER eyes, Hojo's _guest_ in a Mako tank for four years, along with First Class Soldier Zack Fair. Zack, who had thrown himself in front of an army to become the hero he'd always wanted to be, saving Cloud's life in the process. Cloud, who'd awoken from a Mako coma and thought he _was_ Zack.

Cloud, who was also from Nibelheim. The city which Sephiroth had burned to the ground out of rage. Afterwards, ShinRa announced that SOLDIERs First Class Sephiroth and Zack Fair were killed on active duty, while trying to save citizens when the reactor exploded in Nibelheim. Internal memos reported trooper Cloud Strife was _Missing In Action_.

There were plans to conduct a public service in remembrance of Sephiroth and his fellow Firsts, but it was never realized. The plans were probably still stuck in a committee somewhere when Sephiroth returned to ShinRa Tower and killed the president.

_You're welcome, Rufus._ He did not write that observation down in the notebook, though he did make mention of how odd it was that he left his sword. Not because the gesture was a bit too dramatic for his tastes - he'd summoned a meteor, it seemed pointless to argue against his theatrical tendencies - but because it left him unarmed.

His motivations for trying to end the world were confusing, and from what he could understand, were intermixed with the desires of the creature called Jenova. A creature who wasn't his mother, but whose cells Sephiroth did carry in his bloodstream. A significant number of her cells, so much so that when he saw a photograph of the specimen in the tank…

_I look more like her than either of my biological parents._

The picture was unsettling, not only because of the physical resemblance but the certainty that he _should_ feel something, even if he wasn't sure what. It was frustrating, a dull echo of a memory, like trying to recollect how pain felt years after the initial experience. He couldn't comprehend how he had so willingly done this creature's bidding, or _why_, and he definitely did not understand _why he kept coming back_ every time he failed to do so.

_I failed. More than once._

That was incredibly galling. He hated, _hated_ the idea of failing to do something.

Sephiroth's last note was _is it possible I am simply a Sephiroth clone of Jenova's, lost and wandering without purpose now that she is destroyed?_

The thought bothered him, but it shouldn't. After all, what was he now? A weapon created by a company that no longer existed, to fight a war that was over years ago? Even if he wasn't a clone, he was still wandering around without a purpose.

_Unless my purpose is to lay waste to everything I touch._ Dramatic, but it was hard to deny his apparent talent for destruction. Midgar lay in ruins because of him. A town burned to ashes because of him. The last living Cetra, sent back to the Lifestream because of him.

Aerith. Zack's flower girl, about whom he'd waxed enthusiastic while Sephiroth only half-listened to him. Aerith, whom Sephiroth remembered as a little thing wrapped in a pink bundle, held tight in Ifalna's arms. Professor Gast and his wife, who had been kind to him, once. Their daughter, and Sephiroth had killed her for getting in his way.

In front of Cloud Strife, no less. At least Sephiroth understood the young man's ire, now. If Sephiroth's destiny was to be some firebrand of destruction, it seemed as if Cloud's was to stand as witness while everything burned.

_Not just a witness. He was the one who sent you back to the dark when you'd served your purpose. Or when you failed to serve your purpose._ Sephiroth's eyes narrowed, and he was startled to hear a _snap_ and feel something break, a sudden spill of wetness on his hand.

He looked down. The pen he'd been holding was snapped in two.

Sephiroth stood up and washed his hand in the small sink. The soap was harsh and removed most of the ink, but there was still a slight stain against his skin, visible in a certain light.

_I wonder if anyone would believe my dramatic gestures are mostly coincidental?_

Sephiroth's eyes scanned the ceiling, his enhanced senses listening for the high-pitched whine of an electrical device. Rufus said they would leave him alone, but Sephiroth did not believe that for an instant. They might sing a different tune than the company he knew, ShinRa, but they were still playing the same instruments.

"I've completed my homework," Sephiroth said, once he'd located the likely position of the camera. He held up the cracked plastic that used to be his inkpen. "This was the only casualty."

He turned and went back to his cot, settling down on his back, fingers going to his hair out of habit. He would use the radio as instructed, of course, but he needed a moment to himself.

Sephiroth thought about his mother, how she looked in the photograph of her and Hojo. He remembered the odd look on Hojo's face when he caught Sephiroth pulling at his hair, and now he knew why. In that moment, he'd reminded Hojo of Lucrecia.

_Why did you want me to be the son of an angry goddess, instead of hers? Is it because she left you? Is it because she was in love with someone else? Did you even care about her, enough to notice?_

Was Hojo capable of such depth of feeling for another person? Or did Hojo engineer Sephiroth and send him straight into Jenova's cold arms just to see if he could?

And his mother - what kind of scientist was she, Lucrecia Crescent? Her thesis was a wildly theoretical treatise on a world-ending weapon and a _demon_, her obsession with which caused her mentor's death. What kind of _mother_ was she, to have a child and ignore its very existence, while focusing her attentions on experimental procedures to craft a demon to the soul of her incapacitated lover?

Given his father's god complex and his mother's inability to cope with the consequences of her actions, why was anyone surprised when their son manifested _the exact same tendencies_?

Sephiroth was unsure of what led him to so completely and utterly surrender himself to Jenova's influence, but his actions seemed less motivated by science than….emotion. Which was unthinkable to him, to lose such control over himself that way.

Jenova had tempted him, he understood that, by offering him something he wanted to convince him that he was her son, that he was chosen to do her bidding. What secret promises had she whispered to him in the dark?

_Did I want to drown the world in flames because I thought myself a god, or just because I wanted to watch it__ burn?_


	5. Teenage Angst

**Chapter Five:** **Teenage Angst**

"No." Cloud crossed his arms over his chest. "Absolutely _not_."

He was back in Rufus's gleaming office, and this time he'd been surly and ungracious as the smiling Shinra employee had called to have him escorted there. His Turk guard this time had been Rude,who wasn't much on small talk. That suited Cloud just fine.

Rufus was dressed in his usual ensemble, sitting behind his desk and signing papers he didn't appear to be reading. He'd gestured towards a seat, but Cloud had elected to stay standing.

"I admit I'm surprised to hear you say that, Cloud," Rufus said, in his politician voice. It made Cloud want to kick him in the ribs. Repeatedly.

"Really? You're surprised I told _you_ no?" Cloud stared hard at Rufus. "Maybe you're not smart enough to be in charge."

Rufus didn't appear bothered by Cloud's insults, but he'd always been a hard man to read. "I thought you'd be angrier if I asked someone _else_ to be Sephiroth's guard, instead of you."

"Then you're an idiot."

Rufus's fair brows went up. "Cloud. I'm not saying that we're keeping him alive indefinitely, I'm saying that we're doing so for the _time being_. Until we can ascertain what the truth is, if he really has his memories or not."

"Yeah, I heard all that the first two times you said it," Cloud snapped. "What I didn't hear was _why_."

Rufus's icy, pale eyes locked on his. "I don't owe you an explanation."

Cloud gaped at him. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I might explain," Rufus offered, "If you weren't standing here and telling me _no_." He paused. "Then again, I might not."

"Then you can forget it." Cloud turned to leave.

"He remembered your name."

Cloud whirled back around to face him. "What?"

"He said he had recalled that your name was Cloud, though he didn't know why he knew that."

Cloud made a derisive noise. "Sure."

Rufus leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. He looked like a supervillain in a comic book, which, Cloud thought, might not be that far off of a comparison. "I took that to mean he was telling the truth about his momentary memory loss."

"Because that's what you want it to mean." Was Rufus really so easy to convince? What the fuck did he want Sephiroth around so badly for?

Rufus shrugged. "Think what you will, Cloud. I'm not trying to argue with you. I'm trying to offer you...a chance to keep an eye on your old enemy. I'm not killing him, at least not right away, so it's useless to try and convince me otherwise. What I need is someone to stay with him at Healen, until we figure out if he is, in fact, lying. And then we go on from there."

He made it sound so simple. Cloud exhaled sharply, feeling his head begin to throb at the temples. "And if he's lying?"

"Then he'll be put down," Rufus said, easily. "I'm aware of how dangerous he is."

_If you were, we wouldn't be having this conversation._ "Uh-huh."

"So you're telling me no? I'm sorry to rush you for a decision, but I'm very busy."

Cloud's eyes narrowed. He had a feeling this wasn't going to be so easy. "Told you that about two minutes ago."

"All right. Then I'll brief Elena that she needs to be ready to depart to Healen."

Cloud blinked. "Elena? You're sending _Elena_?"

"Do you have some issue with how I choose to manage my Turks and their assignments?"

Obviously. Cloud gritted his teeth. "Why her?"

Rufus smiled his cheshire smile at Cloud and rose from his seat. "I have my reasons. Thank you for agreeing to see me," he said, extending his hand. "I apologize for taking up your time."

Cloud ignored the proffered hand and glared. "Why _Elena_, Rufus?"

"You know, Cloud," Rufus said, dropping his arm. "I should let you walk out of here and wait for you to figure it out yourself, but I'm starting to think that might take you way too long. As I said, I'm a busy man."

"Huh?" Cloud scowled. He'd never met anyone who talked as much as Rufus, without actually _saying_ anything. It must be a politician thing.

"If you don't agree to go to Healen, Elena will go in your place." Rufus paused. Cloud continued to glare, and finally Rufus heaved a sigh and said, "Do you think Tifa will be happy about that, Cloud?"

Ah. If Cloud didn't agree, Rufus would send the one person who made Tifa happy to guard a madman capable of ending the world. "You expect me to believe you'd really send Elena?"

Rufus shrugged. "Why not? If you don't do it, someone has to. Reno is too hotheaded, Tseng is the director and is needed here, and that leaves me with Rude and Elena."

"Or," Cloud suggested, "You could do what I've been saying all along and _just let me kill him_."

Rufus continued as if Cloud hadn't spoken. "Elena is exceptionally skilled in martial arts combat, and yes, there's added benefit that sending her might sway you into accepting my offer. She's the most logical choice for me to get what I want, which is for _you_ to do it. You might not like Elena and Tifa's relationship, but you _do_ want your friend to be happy, don't you?"

"Maybe not," Cloud said. "Rufus, you are a fucking prick, did you know that?"

Rufus nodded. "I've been told that before. Listen to me, Cloud. If you walk out of that door, I will send Elena in your place to Healen. And furthermore, if Tifa says she wants to accompany Elena, I'll allow that, too."

"Elena wouldn't," Cloud snapped. "I know that much about her."

"She could try and stop Tifa, but do you think that would work? I don't know her as well as you do, of course, but _I_ don't think it would. And what would happen to the bar in her absence? I know Tifa's very proud of its success. I suppose you could manage it while she was at Healen, but I have to say, Cloud, your people skills aren't quite up to par. I think you'd do better with Sephiroth than the general public."

"I _hate_ you," Cloud said.

"I can tell." Rufus didn't look particularly concerned. "I'm not trying to make friends with you, Cloud."

"You're trying to manipulate me."

"Yes," Rufus said. "I am. Because you're the best person suited for this assignment."

"I am not," Cloud said, voice dangerously low, "one of your Turks, Rufus."

"If you were one of my Turks, Cloud," Rufus said, his voice just as low, "I wouldn't need to _manipulate_ you into doing anything. You'd just take your orders and get out of my office."

Cloud took a step forward. Rufus didn't give an inch. "How do I know you're not bluffing?"

"I jumped off a building while firing a shotgun. Do you think I'm the kind of man who _bluffs_?"

"That just makes you an idiot," Cloud said, though honestly, he'd thought that was pretty badass of Rufus when he heard about it. "Goddamnit, Rufus."

"So, do I take it that you've changed your mind?"

Cloud gave a rough jerk of his head, approximating a nod.

Rufus looked very pleased with himself. "I thought you might."

* * *  
Cloud wasn't necessarily a man who _learned_ from all his mistakes, but he did try, on occasion, not to repeat them.

This time, he didn't angst over telling Tifa about Sephiroth. He knew he had to tell her, there was no way he could just up and vanish - especially when she knew Sephiroth was alive somewhere. She'd be furious.

So, Cloud decided the responsible thing to do was tell Tifa where he was going, and why. He wasn't entirely sure how to phrase it, because saying _Sephiroth has taken enough happiness away from you,I won't let him do it again_ was probably going to make her want to hit him.

Really, when it came down to it, _anything_ he said was going to make her want to hit him. Cloud's mood was gloomy as he made his way back to Seventh Heaven. He knew he was doing the thing that she hated, trying to protect her, but it was more than that, wasn't it?

He _was_ the only one who had ever managed to defeat Sephiroth. Sending anyone else would just prolong the inevitable confrontation, and give Cloud another person to mourn when it was over.

_I'm so tired of this. Why can't he just stay where he belongs?_

Cloud didn't think Tifa would necessarily object to his plan of killing Sephiroth, but she _would_ probably dislike knowing he'd agreed because Rufus had threatened to send Elena. Knowing Tifa, she would have preferred that, just so _she_ could go along, too, and be the one to kill Sephiroth.

The thought made Cloud's blood run cold.

_You didn't kill her in Nibelheim and you won't do it now. I won't let you._

For some reason, Cloud and Sephiroth's lives were wound up together like threads in a tapestry; woven together, tied up in knots too tight to unravel.

And if that was how it had to be, then so be it. But he refused, he _refused_, to allow the rest of his friends to be tangled up with the two of them. They should be cut loose, free to make some other picture.

Cloud's understanding of tapestries and their creation was vague at best. A little voice pointed out _if you cut a thread loose, it just falls useless to the ground, doesn't it? Can you even use it again?_ Is that what he was, a loose thread? Fucking metaphors. Those were more Vincent's style than his.

Scowling, Cloud revved Fenrir's engine and drove faster. All that mattered was that he was going to Healen and, once again, he was going to send Sephiroth back to hell where he belonged. Hopefully, this time the bastard would _stay there_.

First, though, he had to tell Tifa. He was determined. He would not be swayed, he would not lie, and he would _not run away_.

What he would do...was leave a note.

* * *  
_Tifa,_

Rufus has decided to move Sephiroth to a secure location while he figures out if Sephiroth is lying about his memory loss. He asked me to go there and guard him. I'm going to have to kill him anyway, at least this way I won't have to chase him around Gaia again.

Don't worry about me. This is pretty much the one thing I'm good at.

Cloud 


	6. The Innocence of Sleep

**Chapter Six: The Innocence of Sleep**

* * *  
_He was standing in a cold room, staring up at a tank where something was trapped, suspended in green fluid. Dust covered the nameplate, he could not make out the letters._

_**My son**__, it said. __**Free me, let us take this planet from those who would see us destroyed**__…._

The voice was one he did not know, but it called to something inside of him, something that _**did**__. And oh, how it rejoiced to hear that voice - that endless, seductive voice -_

_**See my name, and know me.**___

The dust fell from the nameplate, leaving letters etched into the brass.

JENOVA.

_**Mother**__, Sephiroth whispered, voice reverent._

She spoke of belonging, of destiny, promised him that _**this time, you will be the one to leave them all behind, you will ascend to a higher glory, you will be mine and they will burn from the fires of our fury**__._

Sephiroth's hands were on the tank, his eyes closed. _**...they will burn….**__ Inside, his blood __**sang**__._

He rubbed the dust off of the tank, and for a moment he saw the flash of red eyes, a face carved in cold beauty and shadowed by captive wings -

- and then it was the face of another, a woman with hair that looked like his, a broken expression of grief on features both familiar and unknown.

_**I'm so sorry**__, she cried, and nothing stirred or sang inside of him, but her voice reached into places he had not known were empty. __**My son. I'm so sorry.**___

Behind her, the shadow of the Other rose.

_**She is nothing to you. She is the bitch that bore you, and no more. She was weak. She chose her crystal tomb, leave her to it.**___

_**I dreamed of you,**__ the woman said. She had soft, sad eyes. __**You destroyed the world.**___

_**Even she knows where your destiny lies,**__ the Other said. Its voice was louder, resonant - but cold and distant, like a star._

The woman's voice throbbed with pain, with regret. _**I'm so sorry, Sephiroth. **___

_**It is not your name she cries in the dark,**__ the Other said. __**She longs for another. Yet it is your name I speak, it is to you I call. Forget her. Come with me and burn.**___

The two figures blurred together, he could not distinguish one from the other.

_**Stop daydreaming, boy. Pay attention.**__ Hojo's voice, sharp and grating as ever. His figure was a vague outline in the shadows._

_**Why didn't you tell me I had a mother?**__ Sephiroth asked._

_**I did. Her name is Jenova.**___

_**Her name is Lucrecia**__, said Sephiroth._

_**Forget that name. There's a reason I never told you it. She was weak. Your mother is Jenova.**___

There was something red glowing in the darkness. Hojo's cigarette. _**Why did you never treat me like a son?**___

_**Because, boy. You were something better.**___

Sephiroth looked back at the tank. Lucrecia's face was fading beneath the cold beauty of Jenova's. _**She is not my mother.**___

Lucrecia's voice, full of grief - and a name that wasn't his. _**Vincent -**___

Hojo laughed.

Jenova smiled his own smile at him. Hell danced in her eyes. 

* * *

Sephiroth awoke with a start, the disconcerting dream fading along with the materia cocktail he'd willingly subjected himself to in order to be transferred out of Midgar. He'd never been particularly good at remembering his dreams, even without magic messing with his mental functions.

Sitting up, he saw he was in a sparsely-furnished room. There was a set of glass doors opening up to a patio next to the bed, allowing for a pleasant breeze of fresh air. Sephiroth breathed in deeply, the scent of woods and growing things momentarily overcoming his senses. It reminded him of Angeal, who had always liked plants.

He sat up, ignoring the dizziness and the slight headache, and set about exploring the room in slow, even steps. A set of pocket doors led to a closet, in which clothing was hung on hangers and stacked neatly in the built-in shelving units. They were all monotone in color, simple solids with no patterns or stripes. Most of them were black, grey, or white. ShinRa was determined to keep his color scheme intact, apparently.

The other set of doors in the room led to a bathroom, which drew a huff of relieved breath from him, and he immediately went to turn on the shower. It was far more luxurious than he was used to, so it took a few moments to figure out the controls. He actually jumped when, after turning a few faucets, more than one shower head began to emit water in a rapid pace.

When the shower was going full blast and emitting a pleasing amount of steam, he took a look at his reflection in the mirror. He wasn't sure what he expected to see, but he looked the same as he always did. A little dirtier, and his hair was a _mess_, but other than that - it was him. He'd been called beautiful by more than one person, but that had never made much sense to Sephiroth.

Genesis, with his flashing eyes and expressive mouth, _he_ was beautiful. Angeal, all uncompromising lines and sharp angles...handsome, perhaps, was a better word. Sephiroth always saw his own features as too abnormal, too _uncommon_ to be beautiful. Memorable because of their strangeness, nothing more.

Was Lucrecia Crescent beautiful? They had the same mouth, the same cowlick in their hair. He saw more of Hojo's prominent bone structure in his face the longer he looked at himself, but his most arresting features - his skin, his eyes, even the color of his hair - seemed to come from neither of them. Was that Jenova's imprint? Had his features been twisted by her cells into those that resembled her own?

Was it _Hojo_ who forced such a transformation upon him?

Something dark stirred inside of him. The dream played in flashes behind his eyes, a memory he couldn't quite capture. Hojo's laugh, his mother's voice. Jenova, merciless in her suspended state, waiting.

The longer he stared at himself, the more he felt unnerved by his own reflection. It was odd to think he should be nearing thirty-two years of age, that technically ten years had passed since he last saw his own reflection; yet he looked no different now than he had the day he'd gone to find Zack Fair and set off for Nibelheim.

_Is this what I looked like, when I brought the masamune down into the heart of the last remaining Cetra? Is this what I looked like when I summoned the end of the world? Is this what I looked like when I fought Cloud Strife, suspended in the air over Midgar?_

Sephiroth raked a hand through his hair and winced a little at the tangles. _I hope I was better put together than this._

In the mirror, Sephiroth watched his reflection smile at him. His own mouth did not move. His fingers twitched, reaching for a sword that was not there.

_You're imagining things. It's the materia. Take a shower before your hair turns into knots and you have to ask Cloud Strife to cut it._

Sephiroth turned and walked resolutely into the bedroom, stripping his uniform and putting the pieces away in the back of the closet. He found appropriate clothing and went back in, watching himself in the mirror as it fogged up with steam. His reflection made no other expressions at him without his consent.

_Imagining things. Materia._

It took him almost an hour to wash his hair, patiently detangling it with a comb. The water stayed remarkably hot, and it was without a doubt the most luxurious shower he'd ever been in. He was used to efficient, military-style showers in the barracks. Even his private apartment had a no-nonsense shower, and while mako meant the the water was always hot, the water pressure occasionally resembled that of a slowly leaking faucet.

He used to shower at night, when he stayed with Angeal and Gen. They made him, because if he tried to do it in the morning, Genesis would stand by the door and pound on it, saying _hurry up, I promise you're the prettiest SOLDIER of them all, now can I brush my teeth?_

Sephiroth stayed in the shower a good thirty minutes or so more than he needed to, hands braced against the side of the shower and his head bowed, letting the water massage his muscles from all angles. It seemed as if he'd been somehow disconnected from his body for a long time, and it was the first occurrence where he so keenly felt the years he'd missed. It was very strange.

When he was finished with his shower, he dressed in a simple, long-sleeved cotton shirt and linen sleep pants, and sat cross-legged on the bed to comb out his hair again. The pulling motion was relaxing, and the remaining tangles came out with ease. It made him feel better immediately, and when he was finished he lay back down on the bed with his hands behind his head, enjoying being clean for the moment.

The bed was comfortable, and too large, reminding him of one rare weekend he'd spent with Angeal and Genesis in Costa Del Sol on leave. He'd spent most of the time in their room, while Angeal played in the surf and Genesis read some academic treatise on epic poetry - or rather, pretended to read it, while ogling Angeal and making sure no one tried to hit on him. Or, dragging Sephiroth out and trying to make him go swimming, which was not an activity Sephiroth particularly enjoyed.

He swam so he didn't drown, not for fun. Angeal's simply joy in diving into the surf confounded him. Genesis's idea of swimming was standing in the pool with a drink, which made more sense than whatever _body surfing_ was.

It was odd that he was thinking so much about this, about moments shared with people who were gone and should be forgotten. Why now, were these memories surfacing with such frequency?

_It's not like you had much time to think about it, before._

Still. They were both dead, and he reminded himself that they'd betrayed him. In the end, they'd chosen each other. Of course they had. He never should have expected them to do anything else.

Sephiroth closed his eyes and slept.

* * *  
The room was cool when he woke up a few hours later, as night had fallen and brought what sounded like rain with it. He stood up and stretched, then closed the patio door. He was hungry, and there was no point in avoiding the inevitable, likely unpleasant, confrontation that needed to be had.

The fingers on his left hand twitched. Cloud was probably going to try and kill him the second he saw him, and Sephiroth had what to defend himself with? A comb? A luxury shower? This was absurd.

Sephiroth left the bedroom, taking note of the other rooms in location to his, the doorways and any window that could be used as a potential exit. He followed the soft glow of light out into a living room, full of comfortable-looking furniture but otherwise empty. He followed the sound of noises until he was in a kitchen.

It was there he found Cloud Strife, making a sandwich at the counter, with a butter knife covered in mustard.

Cloud went still, and Sephiroth could see the fingers holding the butter knife tightening in regards to his presence. He would absolutely not allow himself to be dispatched by this scowling young man with a kitchen utensil of little threat. No.

They stared at each other. Sephiroth had no idea what to say, so he erred on the defensive and waited for his opponent to make the first move.

Cloud seemed to have the same idea, unless his idea of an offensive foray was _glaring_.

A detente, then. Sephiroth opted for the opening salvo. "Hello, Cloud."

Even the innocuously-intended greeting made the man's bright eyes flash with rage. "Sephiroth."

He'd rarely heard his name infused with so much _hate_ before, but logically he couldn't blame Cloud for his anger. It was still tiresome to be so _loathed_ for things he didn't recall doing. It ensured this was not to be a pleasant stay. How ironic of Rufus to choose a resort.

"Did they tell you? All of it?"

There was no use pretending not to know to what Cloud was referring. "Yes."

Cloud's eyes narrowed into slits. "And?"

"And, what?" Sephiroth tilted his head. "What is it you want from this conversation, Cloud? Me to apologize?"

"Are you sorry?" Cloud shook his head, the spikes of his hair as stiff and tense as the man on whose head they rested.

"I don't know."

Cloud blinked, clearly not expecting the answer, but he went back to looking angry again quickly enough. "You don't know. All right. So, even if you aren't lying that you have amnesia, you still aren't sorry you burned down a village, tried to destroy the world, killed Aerith and came up with some fucking _plague_ that killed a lot of little kids?"

"I'm saying _I don't know_, not _no_. I don't remember doing those things, Cloud."

Every time he said Cloud's name, the other man flinched like Sephiroth struck him in the side of the head. Possibly it was why he kept doing it. Something about Cloud made Sephiroth feel an uncommonly childish urge to taunt him.

"So that means you can't be sorry?"

Sephiroth counted to ten in Wutainese, like he did whenever anyone was trying his patience. "I am sure if I said that I _was_ sorry, you wouldn't believe me. If I said I wasn't, you'd probably try and cut my throat with that blunt knife of yours. Would _you_ apologize for something you had no memory of doing, Cloud?"

"Probably," Cloud muttered. "Stop saying my name."

"What should I call you?" Sephiroth asked. "Mr. Strife?"

"Just don't -" Cloud banged his hand on the counter, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It doesn't matter. I'd prefer it if we didn't have to talk at all, but it doesn't. Matter."

The awkward silence continued. Cloud expelled a breath, seeming to calm down, but when Sephiroth went into the kitchen he brandished the knife again and demanded, "What are you doing?"

Sephiroth looked at him. He didn't say anything, because really, wasn't it obvious?

"Okay, here's a house rule, answer me when I fucking ask you questions."

"I thought you'd prefer it if we didn't speak."

Cloud's face was shuttered, but his cheeks were flushed and his breathing was too fast. "What I would prefer has nothing to do with anything."

Sephiroth held his hands up. "I was going to have dinner. Given the tone of our interactions, I wasn't about to ask you to make me a sandwich."

Cloud slammed the knife down and picked up his plate. He marched around Sephiroth to leave the kitchen, going backwards at one point in an attempt not to turn his back on Sephiroth.

Oh, honestly. "When we...had our duels to the death, Cloud, did I at any point attack you without warning?"

"Huh?"

Sephiroth opened the fridge, scanning the contents for something to eat. He frowned. There was fruit, but no vegetables that he could see, and the only protein source seemed to be cheese. "I said, did I attack you without warning?"

"Not really. You kind of have a thing for dramatic gestures, first."

"Really?" Sephiroth blinked, straightening and holding some fruit and a block of cheese. He pushed his hair out of the way and moved to the counter, finding the knife Cloud had used and washing it in the sink. "That seems more like someone else I know. Knew." He lowered his head, drying the knife and raising it to show Cloud. "I'm using this to slice some cheese on a plate. Not to carve your heart out."

"I don't know why you think this is funny," Cloud growled, standing on the other side of the counter.

"Who said I think it's funny?" Sephiroth set about making himself something eat, slicing the cheese and arranging on a plate, along with an apple and some crackers he found in the pantry. Cloud was staring at him, but he looked more incredulous than angry. "What?"

"You're not - this isn't - don't you understand how much I - you _almost killed everyone on the planet_ and you're eating cheese and crackers."

Sephiroth looked at his makeshift dinner and shrugged. "I couldn't find any tofu, and I need some protein. You should have a protein, a fat and a carbohydrate at every meal to ensure adequate nutritional intake."

"Okay." Cloud sounded like he was choking on something. Sephiroth looked up to make sure it wasn't his sandwich. Cloud wasn't eating, though, he was just standing there. Staring.

Sephiroth stared back and ate a piece of cheese. He uncapped the water bottle and took a drink.

"Tofu? Ew." Cloud wrinkled his nose. It was the first gesture he'd made that didn't stem from anger. "There's turkey in there." It wasn't an offer, but it was as close as Sephiroth figured he was going to get.

"I don't eat meat. Perhaps whoever is in charge of the provisions would include tofu in the next delivery."

"The person who….that would be me," Cloud informed him. "What do you think this is? A resort? You don't get to make fucking requests."

"I thought it _was_ a resort," Sephiroth said. "Maybe you don't think it is because your shower isn't as nice as mine." He took a vicious bite of the apple he was holding, and was suddenly struck by a very vivid sensory memory at the taste of it.

_Someone pressing him back against the counter, someone whose mouth was hot on his own, someone who tasted like apples and who pulled his hair - _

Sephiroth shut down that train of thought immediately. Thinking about making out with Genesis was not going to help his situation. He ignored Cloud and finished his meal, washed and dried his plate and the knife he'd used before returning them to their proper place. He held the water bottle up and said, "Is there some separate container for recyclables?"

Cloud's answer was to turn on his heel and walk out of the room. A few moments later, Sephiroth heard a door slam.

He filled the water bottle up from the tap, and put it in the fridge. No sense wasting it.

Sephiroth didn't see Cloud for the rest of the evening, and it occurred to him that he could, very likely, walk out of the front door and disappear. But he wanted to figure out what happened, _why_ he couldn't remember the things he'd done, and what had motivated him to do them in the first place. And Cloud Strife seemed to be the key to understanding it, for whatever reason.

Besides. Leaving now would make Cloud way too happy.


	7. The Never-Ending Why

**Chapter Seven: The Never-Ending Why **

The thing was, Cloud had come to expect certain things when it came to facing his arch-nemesis.

Sephiroth would show up, greet him in a vaguely infuriating and yet oddly polite fashion, give some sort of insane monologue full of dramatic turns-of phrase and gestures, and then shift elegantly into a fighting stance, raising the masamune over his shoulder and fixing Cloud with those cold, reptilian eyes of his.

Cloud, for his part, would stand there staring at Sephiroth during said monologue, thinking _fuck, this again? Really?_ and trying to calm his racing heart, to make himself stop thinking about how badly that fucking sword hurt when it sliced through his skin and impaled him. Instead, he'd think about Zack and Aeris and what it meant to be brave, about his friends who took up arms and threw themselves headlong into battle beside him, and how he would rather die than let this man take anything else away from him.

Sephiroth would smirk, Cloud would scowl, and things would fall to pieces while they tried to kill each other. Cloud would win (or whatever it was called when neither of you died but one of you disappeared), but not without a toll on his mind and his body; and after Sephiroth vanished back to wherever it was he slept, Cloud would try and put the pieces of himself back together again, would try and pretend he wasn't a man made up of a thousand different cracks and bits and pieces of other people.

After the incident on the ShinRa Tower, on Advent Day, Cloud had been half-convinced that it hadn't really been Sephiroth he was fighting, but some dark, inner part of himself. The part that was still so _angry_ at what had happened, the part that felt he was never going to live up to his promise to Zack, that all he was good for was fighting the same battle, over and over again….

But whether or not that was true, the battle - metaphorical or not - had followed the usual script. It was brutal and terrifying, yes, but at least Cloud knew what to expect. There was no fucking script in the world for Sephiroth showing up in pajamas and eating a plate of cheese and crackers.

The disconnect between the nightmarish figure who'd so long haunted him, and the tall, quiet man who was a vegetarian concerned with proper nutrition was making Cloud feel like he was going insane.

Sephiroth was always awake when Cloud left his room in the morning, and apparently went to bed _earlier_ than Cloud, which seemed the exact opposite of what one's evil nemesis should do. Shouldn't Sephiroth stay up all night, dreaming up evil schemes against the Planet? Instead, he rose early, exercised, ate meals and went to bed at around the same time each day. It finally occurred to Cloud that he was following a military schedule.

_But he's not. He's not a SOLDIER anymore. There_ is_no SOLDIER, anymore._

For the most part, they ignored each other as much as possible; exchanging only the minimum amount of words necessary to communicate, and only when hand gestures or vague grunts weren't enough.

Just when Cloud stopped having a near heart-attack every time he saw Sephiroth in his peripheral vision, just when he'd started to accustom himself to seeing the man in the kitchen fixing himself a meal, the script changed _again_.

It happened when Cloud woke up in the middle of the night, thanks to hearing a strange noise (he slept at odd intervals, and always lightly; enough that a breeze against the window could rouse him), and an investigation revealed Sephiroth in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge.

It was dark in the kitchen, the only light emanating from the appliance. Sephiroth turned and saw him there, and held up a bottle of water without comment.

He went through a lot of water, Cloud noticed. In the morning, he drank something from a mug that Cloud thought must be tea.

_Tea. Jenova's Calamity, Gaia's Scorned Son, Destroyer of Worlds...drinks hot tea._

"You're up late," Cloud said, unsure why he wasn't simply turning on his heel and going to another room, which was what he usually did when he found himself in the same place as Sephiroth.

"I couldn't sleep," Sephiroth answered. "I feel like I'm waiting for a mission that's never going to come."

Cloud leaned against the wall and watched him. "And I feel like l'm waiting for a battle that's going to come when I least expect it."

They stared at each other. Whenever their paths happened to cross in the house, Sephiroth appeared completely indifferent to Cloud's presence. But at the moment he was regarding Cloud almost warily, and Cloud wondered if the indifference was simply an act that Sephiroth did not have the energy to uphold at the moment.

He seemed tired, in a way that Cloud understood; the kind of tired that ran in your veins, that went bone-deep and didn't ever let go.

_He's never looked tired, before. He's never sighed, or rubbed his temples, or rolled his neck like he's doing right now. He never even blinked, before. Not once._

Sephiroth had never looked quite as _human_ as he did in that moment, and Cloud had no idea what to do about it. He also looked so much younger out of that uniform, which had Cloud wondering just how old Sephiroth even _was_.

Before he could stop himself, he asked. "How old _are_ you?"

Sephiroth paused in the midst of raising the bottle of water to his mouth. "Twenty-five."

That he'd answered the question at all stole Cloud's breath for a moment Twenty-five? _Twenty-five_? Somehow, Sephiroth had always been ageless, caught in that moment when Cloud first met him, first _killed_ him. To have an age meant he was once younger, was once a child.

Was once innocent.

Was once _human._

"I-" Cloud shook his head, taking a step back towards the shadows in the hallway.

"Wait," Sephiroth said, slowly. "Cloud, I want to know what happened -"

"You _do_ know," Cloud interrupted, harshly. "You know exactly what happened. If you need the details, you can read the files again."

Sephiroth closed the refrigerator door, plunging the kitchen into darkness. Cloud's eyes adjusted quickly, but the first thing he saw was Sephiroth's eyes - those strange eyes with their soft mako glow, their slitted pupils. They always looked vaguely reptilian to Cloud, what with Sephiroth's tendency not to blink, but they reminded Cloud in that moment of a cat.

"I would like to read them again, yes, but I - you were there, Cloud. I want you to tell me, I want to hear it from _you_. You hate me, and I know that. But I - I want to know _why_."

Hearing Sephiroth's voice, seeing his eyes in the dark and just a hint of that cold, beautiful face - it reminded Cloud too much of the man he'd killed in Nibelheim, the man who'd laughed as Aeris died, the man who smiled at him while impaling him on the end of his sword, just to watch him writhe in agony.

"You, what, want me to fucking _relive_ it? Want to hear it from _me_? No. Fuck you, no, you don't - you don't get my suffering, not anymore." Cloud was so angry he was trembling. "I already gave it to you once, that's enough, why isn't it even _enough_ for you!"

"Cloud-"

If he'd had his weapon at the moment, Cloud was certain he would have drawn it. He didn't want to think about why he didn't have it, why he'd left his room unarmed for the first time since they'd brought Sephiroth here.

Why he'd thought Sephiroth's face was _beautiful_.

This man might have been human, once. Now he was just a monster, fucking with Cloud's head.

"Stay. Away. From. Me," Cloud hissed, and turned towards the darkness of the hallway. All he wanted to do was go back to his room, go outside on the balcony and look up at the stars, the stars that were still _there_, because of Aeris's bravery and his friends, and _him_, goddamn it, all of them, they were the ones who saved the world from this man who'd wanted to end it all.

"You never ran away from me before, Cloud," Sephiroth called after him, making Cloud nearly stumble in his anger. "Not when I wanted to kill you, not when I was _trying_ to kill you. So why are you doing it now?"

_Because I don't want you to be telling the truth. I don't want to tell you what you did and hear you apologize and mean it. I've never been fucking afraid of you when I knew what and who you were, but I don't know any of that now, and it's fucking terrifying._

"I'm tired of playing games, Sephiroth. Killing you doesn't work, so maybe ignoring you will."

"It doesn't appear to, so far."

Cloud stopped, turning around slowly and half-expecting to see Sephiroth right _there_, grinning maniacally down at him and…

_What? Getting ready to beat you to death with a plastic water bottle?_

Cloud sighed, and reached out to flip on the light in the hallway. He blinked as the sudden brightness hurt his eyes. Sephiroth was standing at the end of the hallway, his legs apart, arms clasped behind his back in a military at-ease stance.

Cloud let out a breath, slowly. "Fine. You want to know? I'll tell you."

Sephiroth didn't move from his at-ease stance. "Would you prefer to do this in the morning?"

"It is morning," said Cloud. "And now's as good as ever." Might as well get it over with.

Sephiroth nodded, then turned to go back in the kitchen. Cloud followed, then stopped and glared at him. "What are you doing?"

Sephiroth was rummaging in the cabinet. "I wanted some tea. Would you like some?"

Cloud shook his head, momentarily struck speechless as Sephiroth, Destroyer of Worlds, put a tea kettle on the stove.

* * *  
It took, all in all, less time than Cloud thought it would.

About four hours, allowing for brief moments where he had to get up and walk away, or where he just couldn't talk anymore and had to sit quietly and gather his thoughts.

Sephiroth sat across from him in the living room. At first he asked the occasional question or made a comment, but at Cloud's increasingly hostile glares, he gradually stopped and listened in silence.

The sun rising when Cloud finally finished. He got up and left Sephiroth sitting in the chair, and went to the kitchen to get himself a bottle of water. When he came back, Sephiroth was out on the deck, watching the sunrise.

Cloud, drained but feeling oddly bereft of anger, went outside to join him. They both stood there in silence as dawn splashed color onto a grey sky.

Sephiroth turned to him, his eyes searching Cloud's. "I remembered why I knew your name."

Cloud tensed, fingers twitching. He didn't know what to think. "Why's that?"

"Because I asked the guardsman at the door on my way out, after that mission briefing where we first...met."

"Why?" The words tasted brittle, like dust in his mouth.

"I was going to give you a demerit."

Of all the things Cloud expected Sephiroth to say, that was definitely not one of them. "Huh?"

Sephiroth's jaw was tight as he looked out towards the sky. "You weren't wearing a helmet, and I thought it was disrespectful. I asked your name so that when we re-assembled for the mission, I could dismiss you in front of the others and make a point about proper protocol. I wanted to teach you a lesson."

"Oh," Cloud said, also staring straight ahead. "You wanted to. Teach me a...lesson."

Unbelievably, his lips twitched. The laugh felt like someone reaching down into his soul and pulling, yanking it out of him, but there was no way he could stop it. The sound was loud enough to scatter the birds in the trees, a cacophony of angry twittering mixed with Cloud's hysterical laughter.

"Lesson learned, _sir_," Cloud gasped, tears leaking from his eyes. His sides hurt, and when he couldn't breathe at all, he knew he wasn't laughing anymore.

Sephiroth was staring at him like Cloud had lost his mind. It wasn't helping the situation at all, but when Sephiroth asked him, "Strife, should I get you a paper bag?", Cloud was able to wave his hand and concentrate on drawing a few deep breaths in and out.

"Why didn't you?" he asked, when he could speak again. "For the love of Odin, Sephiroth, _why didn't you_?"

Sephiroth crossed his arms. He looked incredibly reluctant to answer. "Zack, of course. When I told him that's what I was going to do, he talked me out of it. He said it was his fault you weren't in proper uniform, because you were in the hallway when he recruited you for the mission. That Nibelheim was your hometown, and that you hadn't been home for years so I should -" He stopped, abruptly.

"You might as well just tell me," Cloud managed, wiping at his eyes. His hand was shaking. Tiredness dragged like weights at his eyes, which felt swollen and dry.

"That I should have a heart." Sephiroth looked down, hiding behind his hair. Cloud took an instinctive step away from him, anticipating a creepy smile. But Sephiroth just stood there, hair in his face, before raising his chin again. He looked exhausted, circles under his eyes. Cloud wondered if he'd been sleeping.

His eyes met Cloud's, and that voice, always so calm and faintly mocking, just sounded confused when he finally spoke. "Why was it you? Of all the people in the world I would have ever wanted to hurt...why _you_?"

"I don't know," Cloud answered, leaning against the rail of the wooden deck. "I don't _know_."

If Sephiroth had apologized for any of it, Cloud was certain he would have lost what remained of his composure. But he didn't, he simply stood there and watched the sky lighten to blue.

Sephiroth left a few moments later, stopping briefly at the door. "Thank you for telling me," he said, very quietly. "I'll leave you alone."

Cloud heard the door close as Sephiroth went inside. He didn't turn around.

* * *

Tseng called later that afternoon. After Cloud gave the updated supply order, he asked the same question he did every time they spoke.

"Do you think he's lying?"

"Yes," Cloud said, like always.

Only this time, it felt like a lie.


	8. Ask for Answers

**Chapter 8: Ask for Answers**

He was standing in the bathroom, staring in the mirror. There were flames behind his reflection, bright and blinding, but Sephiroth felt no heat or fire at his back.

His reflection was saying something to him, a single word.

"Soon."

* * *

Sephiroth woke up with a start. He was standing in the bathroom, which meant he must have sleepwalked, something he hadn't done since he was a child. He was also looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, which was disorienting.

It took him a moment or two to even out his breathing. HIs heart was racing, the adrenaline spike making him buzz like a livewire. His fingers tightened briefly on the cold tile of the countertop.

He stared warily in the mirror for a few moments, half-expecting to see flames, but there was nothing behind his reflection but darkness.

Blinking, he yawned and saw his reflection do the same. _Just a dream, then._

He lifted his hand and waved at the mirror with his left hand, then turned and went back to bed. He'd just settled in when he realized his reflection had waved back, but with _its_ left hand.

That was not how mirrors worked.

_What is happening to me? Am I going crazy? _

Sephiroth lay in the dark and replayed Cloud Strife's words in his mind, trying to remember something, anything, from the images they evoked. They did not feel like memories. It was like gazing at a painting when what he wanted was photographs.

Because he knew, he _knew_, the key to all of this was buried somewhere in his past.

He'd inherited his father's sociopathic tendencies and his mother's penchant for emotional breakdowns, and the mako and Jenova cells only amplified those traits. He'd been killing people since he was barely a teenager, the only constant presence in his life was a father who isolated him from others and treated him like an experiment, and he'd been abandoned by the only two people who had ever cared about him.

Sephiroth had thought himself immune to the same deterioration that afflicted Genesis and Angeal, but clearly, that was incorrect. It was Sephiroth's mind that was afflicted, instead of his body.

What other reason was there, for finding an alien fragment in a tank and thinking it was his mother? Had Hojo manipulated him that much, and if so, had he intended for his son to go mad and try to end the world? Or did he just want to see how powerful Sephiroth could become, if he united himself with the being whose cells he carried?

_Would he have told me Jenova was my mother if Lucrecia hadn't left him?_

Even if Hojo were still alive, Sephiroth very much doubted he could trust him to answer Sephiroth's questions honestly. And he was not sure it was a particularly good idea to inquire after his father's files and research notes - at least, not until he managed to convince Rufus Shinra that he wasn't lying about his memory loss.

And to convince Rufus, he had to convince Cloud Strife. Sephiroth didn't think that was going to happen, and he supposed he could understand Cloud's reluctance given their history and Sephiroth's own behavior.

Of far greater concern at the moment, however, was the incident with his reflection. If he were seeing things again, did that mean the whole thing was going to start over? Was he going to lose his mind, deteriorate until he knew nothing but rage and bloodlust? Would he lose ten more years of his life to whatever madness was waiting to take him?

_No. No. I'll end it myself before it comes to that._

And if there wasn't a way to stop the deterioration, if his mind was corrupted to the point where he thought himself perfectly sane while trying to summon meteors and call down armageddon….

At least he knew there was one person in the world who could stop him.

* * *

Sephiroth spent the next few days catching up on missed sleep and trying to reason out a plan for monitoring his sanity.

When he had a working idea of what he wanted to do, he made careful notes, checked them over several times, and then went in search of Cloud.

He wasn't in the house, and his bedroom door was ajar and the light off, suggesting he wasn't in there, either. Sephiroth knocked and called his name, but received no response. Had he left, then? It _had_ been several days since they'd seen each other, maybe after their late-night discussion Cloud decided he'd had enough.

Sephiroth finally found him outside, working on his motorcycle. He was dressed in a white shirt and jeans, a black bandana pushed up on his forehead, and his clothes were stained and covered in oil.

He gave Sephiroth a flat stare, shielding his eyes from the sun. "What is it?"

_I've decided to torch the house._ Sephiroth kept his voice even as he answered. "I would like to speak with you for a moment, if you wouldn't mind."

"I'm busy."

Sephiroth resisted the urge to roll his eyes. While he understood Cloud's resentment, it didn't make it any less irritating. "Perhaps when you've finished."

Cloud stared at him some more. He finally shrugged. "I guess. Yeah. Okay."

_And this is the man I am counting on to destroy me, if I go insane._ When Cloud acted like a petulant teenager, that thought was less comforting than it had been.

A few hours later, Sephiroth was making himself dinner when Cloud appeared in the kitchen. He was a mess, oil and grease and sweat smeared over his clothes and streaked in his fair hair. But there was a notable lack of his usual tension in his shoulders and his expression, and Sephiroth supposed that whatever he'd been doing with his motorcycle had been more for relaxation than any necessary maintenance.

"I need some water."

The urge to make Cloud say _please_ was nearly overwhelming. Sephiroth reminded himself he was trying to gain this man's cooperation, and pushing Cloud's buttons would only make things difficult.

_If only his buttons weren't emblazoned in flashing lights and staring me in the face all the time._

Without comment, Sephiroth opened the fridge, took a bottle of water, and tossed it to him. Cloud caught it deftly, opened the cap and drank the whole thing, thirstily.

Sephiroth watched him for a moment, something unwelcome stirring at the sight of Cloud's head tipped back, the way his throat worked as he swallowed.

Cloud finished the bottle, and saw Sephiroth looking at him. His bright eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Do you want another one?"

Cloud looked as if he didn't believe for a minute that's what Sephiroth was concerned about, but Sephiroth kept his gaze even and locked on Cloud's, waiting for him to answer. Eventually, Cloud nodded and Sephiroth threw him another bottle of water.

Cloud drank it as thirstily as the first. "Thanks," he said, gruffly, without looking Sephiroth in the eyes. He raked a hand through his spiked hair, dragging more grime through the strands as he did so. Sephiroth would hate that, and he was half tempted ask Cloud how he could stand it.

"You're welcome," he said, instead.

Cloud threw the bottles of water away, and walked out of the kitchen without another word. Sephiroth waited until he heard Cloud's bedroom door close, and then he sighed and took both plastic bottles out of the trash.

Sephiroth threw them in the correct receptacle for the recycling, convinced Cloud threw them in the wrong one just to be annoying. He went back to his dinner of stir-fried tofu and vegetables, firmly ignoring the mental image of Cloud washing himself in the shower as he heard the water start rushing through the pipes.

Losing his mind and ten years of his life didn't make his tastes any less predictable, apparently. Why his type was _combative people who don't seem to like me very much_ was yet another mystery - and this one, he thought, was probably best left unsolved.

* * *

Cloud came back when Sephiroth was finishing with dinner. He offered some to Cloud, who made a face at the vegetables and opted for yet another sandwich and an energy drink.

"Those aren't very good for you," Sephiroth told him.

Cloud snorted. "If _you_ haven't killed me yet, then I don't think the occasional Black Choboco is going to be a problem."

"You drink at least three of those a day," Sephiroth pointed out.

"Why do you know that?" Cloud asked him, side-eying him as he popped open the can. "That's creepy."

"You throw the cans in the wrong receptacle," Sephiroth told him, sighing. "I thought you did that on purpose."

"No, but is it annoying? If so, I'll make sure to keep doing it."

"Very mature, Cloud."

Cloud smiled at him. It wasn't genuine by any means, but it wasn't his usual expression of glowering anger, either. It was challenging and a little smug, which reminded Sephiroth again of Genesis. "My entire purpose in life does seem to be ruining your day."

Sephiroth rolled his eyes. "Apparently."

Cloud took his plate to the kitchen table and ate his dinner, and Sephiroth found a piece of paper and a pen, jotting a list down while he waited for Cloud to finish. Every so often, he could feel Cloud's eyes on him, but he didn't look up and neither of them spoke.

The silence wasn't as uncomfortable as usual. Sephiroth wrote the last item on his list and took another bottle of water out of the fridge.

"What is it you wanted to talk to me about?" Cloud asked, finally, breaking the silence.

Sephiroth shifted easily into a military at-ease stance, facing Cloud as if he were about to deliver a situation report or a mission briefing. "I've come to a conclusion about the most logical reason for my loss of mental control."

"Oh, yeah?" Cloud leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Sephiroth noticed that Cloud was barefoot. "Well, what is it?"

Even though he wanted to explain this to Cloud, Sephiroth had to fight back the urge to make Cloud say _please_, again. "When Angeal and Genesis fell victim to their degeneration, I thought myself immune because I didn't suffer similar physical symptoms."

Sephiroth took a moment to gather his thoughts, then continued. "And while that was technically correct, it overlooks the accompanying _mental_ deterioration that afflicted both Genesis and Angeal, as well. And from that, apparently, I was _not_ immune. The symptoms are very similar; Genesis finds out about his condition and returns to his hometown, Banora, and destroys it. Angeal forces his student and his protege, Zack, to kill him. And I did much the same, when my own origins were explained to me."

Sephiroth's brow furrowed a bit as he thought about that. "I'm simply not sure what other explanation would account for my behavior. It's not as if I didn't know I was ShinRa's version of a biological weapon, they never made it a secret and I was treated accordingly. As for thinking an alien was my mother -" Sephiroth made a face. "I was under a great deal of stress at the time, but I simply can't imagine how that would have _broken_ me to the extent that it did. Which leads me to assume that something caused the breakdown of my mental faculties."

Cloud was watching him, his face unreadable. "Why do you think there has to be something other than being raised like a lab rat, and the fact your parents were both batshit insane?"

Sephiroth stared at him. "You certainly don't think very much of me."

"I did. Once." Cloud pushed himself away from the wall, and tugged at one of the still-drying spikes in his hair. "I used to think there was a reason people did the things they did, but then I spent four years in Hojo's tanks, and people like Aerith and Zack died while you're still here, trying to figure out why you went crazy and killed them. So, no, I don't think much of you. If it helps, I don't think very much of _me_, either."

Sephiroth cleared his throat. "Are you going to sulk, or may I finish what I've been trying to tell you? You remind me of Genesis. He would do the same thing, provoke an argument and then get caught up in his own dramatics until I couldn't tell if he were still mad at me anymore, or just himself."

Cloud was giving him a weird look. "For the record, I'm probably always mad at you."

"Yes, of course. Since you're obviously convinced that I'm nothing but a psychotic murderer with mommy issues, allow me to sum up the rest of this conversation. I am, as much as it irritates me to even say this, not saying you don't have a point in suggesting the only thing that made me behave the way I did was _me_...but there are similarities, Cloud, even _you_ can't deny that."

Cloud leaned back against the wall again. "Oh, try me."

Sephiroth expelled a breath and counted to ten in his head. "I want to understand what happened to me. If it is nothing more than my genetics, fine, I'll accept it. If it is merely hubris on my part that makes me think something else triggered my behavior, if I'm making connections between situations that don't exist...then I'll have to concede that, yes, Cloud, the reason I lost my mind is because I'm as _batshit insane_ as my parents."

Cloud gave a jerky nod. "Fine. So, you think, what? Jenova cells made you crazy?"

"I don't know, Cloud," Sephiroth said, very slowly. "I'm trying to find out."

"You don't have any idea how gratifying it is to watch you get annoyed," Cloud informed him. "You never … when we would fight. You never even _blinked_, Sephiroth. And you've rolled your eyes like, three times already. You also look like you want to pull your hair out."

"That's because I do, in fact, want to do that. And please do not take this as a threat to your life and limb, Strife, but I also want to strangle you for making this conversation so unnecessarily complicated and exhausting."

Cloud grinned at him. There was enough amusement in it that he looked like an entirely different person. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Sephiroth," he said, and the laugh that accompanied it was strained, but warm in a way Cloud never was, giving Sephiroth hints of the man he was when he wasn't locked in an empty resort with his arch-enemy.

_The man he might have been, if not for me._

Sephiroth tilted his head, immediately, and hid behind the fall of his hair. Guilt was not an emotion with which he was familiar. ShinRa wouldn't allow it.

"Fine. How are you going to do this?"

Sephiroth's head lifted and he blinked at Cloud, momentarily surprised. "I...what?"

"Now who's brooding?" Cloud raised both of his eyebrows. "I mean...why am I supposed to do? 'Cause you want me to do something, huh."

_Yes_. Sephiroth ignored the slow rush of warmth at the thought of things he wanted Cloud to do. He took the list he'd made, and handed to it Cloud. He put his hands behind his back again, settling his features into a mask of impassivity. "There are some things I believe necessary to both monitor my behavior and, though it's only a hypothesis, keep my mind from deteriorating again."

Cloud read the list, out loud, each item after the other. "Files relating to Project G, Project A, and Project S." He snorted. "Original names."

"Yes, well, Hojo was forever whining about how Hollander lacked creativity," Sephiroth muttered.

Scowling, Cloud continued reading. "Books and articles relating to the physics of flight?"

Sephiroth cleared his throat. "I'm not...the mechanics behind the ability to fly with one wing, I don't understand it."

Cloud didn't look at him. "A chess board, crossword puzzles and a treadmill?"

"I'm bored," Sephiroth admitted, flatly. "I need some mental stimulation." His banter with Cloud might be entertaining, but it was also very likely a threat to his physical well-being.

Even if he was aching for a fight - not to the death, just for some _exercise_. And he was curious, despite himself, on how Cloud would approach such a thing. He wanted to know why this angry young man was apparently the only one who could defeat him. "You, at least, have a motorcycle to occupy your time."

"There's only so many times you can change the oil, though," Cloud muttered.

"You were that dirty, and all you were doing was _changing the oil_?"

"What? Shut up, do you even know how to do that?" Cloud shot him a glare, but before Sephiroth could answer (which, no, he did not, and he would be fine with Cloud showing him, if he didn't think Cloud would attempt to brain him with a wrench), Cloud fixed him with a wide-eyed, incredulous look and said, "A _gazebo kit_?"

Feeling a bit embarrassed and annoyed by it, Sephiroth said defensively, "I need something to occupy my brain and give me some sort of physical work. I'm a soldier, Cloud - or I _was_. I'm not used to idleness. I believe there's some sort of applicable phrase about the dangers of that."

"But where are you going to put a gazebo?" Cloud asked, still apparently shocked by Sephiroth's request.

"I suppose figuring that out is part of the challenge," Sephiroth said, between his teeth.

Cloud slowly raised his eyes to Sephiroth's. He stared at him for a very long time, then said, "Why are you a vegetarian?"

Sephiroth was taken aback, but he answered the question. "Because it's healthier, it forces you to rely on sources other than meat for protein and that is a valuable skill when you're sent off to war in a jungle full of plants, and it used to drive Hojo insane trying to compensate adequately for my nutritional needs. Why?"

Cloud shook his head, slowly, and folded the list. "I - it doesn't matter. I'll give this list to Rufus."

"Thank you," Sephiroth said. He paused. "There's one more thing."

"What?"

"I am working on the assumption that my past behavior was predicated on what I thought were very...logical assumptions," Sephiroth said, very carefully. "Not that they _were_ logical in the least, but I must have at least...thought they were. I've never been one to act impulsively, and I've always preferred to have some sort of plan in place before embarking on any kind of mission."

Cloud made a derisive noise at that, but said nothing.

Sephiroth made himself keep talking. "What bothers me about my loss of mental control is that somehow, it occurred in such a way that I thought I _was_ acting completely rationally. I can't fathom what happened to make me think that, but when I set my mind on accomplishing something...I can be very difficult to dissuade."

Cloud snorted. "Yeah. I noticed. You also still talk too much. What is it you're trying to say?"

Sephiroth gave him a level stare. "If I start losing my mind again, I need you to kill me."

Cloud didn't answer for a moment, but then he just shrugged and said, "That's what I'm here for."

Sephiroth nodded. "I didn't think it would be a problem. I just wanted to make sure we were clear on the matter. And, Cloud?"

Cloud gave him a wary look. "Yeah?"

"Next time, please make sure I don't come back. I don't want to do this again."

Cloud started laughing. It wasn't the same hysterical laughter as that early morning on the balcony, but it sounded just as painful. "And here I thought we'd never agree on anything."

Sephiroth turned to leave, and Cloud surprised him by speaking again.

"I wanted to be in SOLDIER because of you. I thought you were a hero."

Sephiroth closed his eyes briefly, an image of Zack Fair's bright grin flashing behind them. "There are no heroes in war, Cloud. And even if there were, I wouldn't have been one of them. All I've ever been is a weapon."

"So what if that's all you'll ever be?"

Sephiroth had no idea what to say to that. He looked over his shoulder at Cloud, slowly, gratified to see something very much like fear flashing in Cloud's eyes when his own narrowed. "Then I suppose you'll have to be a better one."

That wasn't what Cloud was expecting him to say at all, Sephiroth could tell. He turned and started walking towards his room. "Good night, Cloud."

Silence followed him down the hallway.


	9. For What It's Worth

**Chapter 9: For What it's Worth**

The following few weeks were the absolute strangest of Cloud Strife's entire life.

First, Cloud had to ask _Rufus Shinra_ to somehow find him a build-it-yourself gazebo kit. And then there was the whole part where it was for _Sephiroth_.

And, as if that wasn't enough to practically break Cloud's brain, somehow Sephiroth ended up teaching him how to play chess.

Rufus had sent the majority of the things on Sephiroth's list with the next supply run, with the exception of the gazebo kit and some of the materials relating to Hollander's research, the encryption of which was proving difficult to break.

Sephiroth had seemed pleased when he saw the things stacked up on the kitchen table, so much so that he'd smiled very briefly. Cloud had never seen Sephiroth smile for any reason other than causing pain or suffering, and once again it struck him how _young_ the man looked.

In fact, when Sephiroth was like this - dressed in normal clothes, faultlessly polite and rather soft-spoken - Cloud was beginning to think he was an entirely different person than the one who'd terrorized him for so long. And that was dangerous, because it wasn't a different person.

Even if, Cloud realized, he was beginning to think Sephiroth wasn't lying about his memory loss. Oh, he still _wanted_ to think Sephiroth was lying, but having the man ask Cloud to kill him and to _make sure I don't come back_ was wrecking havoc on Cloud's previous certainty.

Cloud's Sephiroth smiled when Cloud screamed in agony on the end of his sword. This one smiled when someone brought him books and a chess set. This wasn't Cloud's Sephiroth. This was Zack's Sephiroth.

_You're not the Sephiroth I've known!_

The gazebo kit, though. That was just _weird_, no matter which Sephiroth it happened to be for.

Cloud could easily understand that Sephiroth was bored, as he himself was itching with the desire to _go_ somewhere, and riding Fenrir up and down the roads around Healen Resort wasn't cutting it. As he became less certain in his insistence that Sephiroth was lying, his wanderlust grew considerably stronger.

The tension between the two of them was still there, and it wasn't just on Cloud's end of things, either. But their interactions had improved from outright hostility to quiet civility, and Cloud had to admit it was better than being so tense and on-edge all the time.

Cloud no longer grimaced when he heard Sephiroth's voice, or flinched when he came upon the other man unexpectedly. It still threw him for a moment to find him doing things like cooking or drinking tea, but he was starting to get over that, too.

Tensions eased ever more when they started eating dinner together. It happened mostly out of coincidence, because Cloud couldn't help falling into a similar routine when it came to mealtimes (a fact which annoyed him, and caused him to spend a few days in his room, hungry and yet determined not to give in to any sort of subtle conditioning on Sephiroth's part - until he found himself hoarding cheese and crackers for a snack and eating them vindictively on his small private balcony, and felt ridiculous) and they'd learned how to share space in the kitchen while still giving each other plenty of room to maneuver.

Also, Cloud was getting tired of sandwiches. Sephiroth was a much better cook, but everything he ate was sort of boringly healthy and bland. So, Cloud put a few sauces and spices on the next supply order and, when Sephiroth offered him some sauteed vegetables, he accepted them and liberally doused them with lemon pepper seasoning and teriyaki sauce.

Sephiroth gave him a lecture about too much sodium in his diet, but Cloud ignored him and ate his sauced-up vegetables with a Black Chocobo energy drink. It was a lot better than a turkey sandwich, even if it did take him ten minutes to say _thank you_ to Sephiroth for the food.

The resort had a small selection of cookbooks, which were all called things like _Living the Natural Way: Delicious and Simple Recipes that Celebrate and Enhance our Bountiful Garden_. Cloud found a recipe that celebrated vegetables by adding spices and a homemade sauce, and left it open on the counter to prove a point.

"Is this a hint?" Sephiroth asked him, holding up the book.

Kind of, because it sounded good - well, it would have sounded good if it included grilled chicken or something besides boring vegetables - but Cloud just shrugged. "Not really. Just, see, that's healthy stuff and it's got some spices."

"It's also not drowning in teriyaki sauce," Sephiroth pointed out.

"There's a sauce, though," Cloud said, unsure why he was having this conversation in the first place. "I saw it. It's even on the picture."

"I assume it's intended to be made from scratch, not poured from a bottle. The sodium in the bottled brands is intended to increase the product's shelf life. It's not necessary for taste."

Cloud glanced at him. Sometimes, Sephiroth sounded like a walking encyclopedia. How a man could say that and then tell him he wanted to _sail the darkness of the cosmos_ was beyond him. Maybe there was something to this whole mental degeneration thing, after all. "Make some from scratch, then."

"I'm not the one who wants it, though." Sephiroth smirked over at him. "You are."

Annoyed, Cloud threw his hands in the air. "Then don't. I'm just _showing_ you that it doesn't have to be boring to be good for you. Try some hot sauce or something. Live a little."

Sephiroth gave him an odd look at that. "Live a little."

Cloud felt his face heat up. This is why he didn't like talking to Sephiroth. Even as a forced roommate instead of an archenemy, he was infuriating. "Or not. Look, it doesn't matter."

"You just wanted to prove me wrong about something," Sephiroth said, and Cloud opened his mouth to vehemently deny that (because, yes, that's exactly what he'd wanted), but instead -

He smiled. Just a little. "Yeah, I guess."

Sephiroth made a dish with vegetables, tofu and the lemon pepper seasoning, and homemade garlic sauce. Cloud tried it, even the tofu, and was prepared to hate it - but it was actually very good, and filling, and he grudgingly said _it's not bad_ and then did the dishes because that seemed the easiest way to express appreciation without having to say anything.

It was while doing the dishes that Sephiroth said, "Do you want to play a game of chess, Cloud?"

While Cloud had gotten somewhat used to eating dinner at the same time as Sephiroth, exchanging words that weren't trembling with anger and seeing Sephiroth walk around barefoot in cotton pajama pants...it still made his skin crawl whenever Sephiroth said his name.

"No," Cloud said, viciously scrubbing at his plate. There weren't a lot of dishes to do. Sephiroth cleaned up while he was cooking, and before he actually sat down to eat anything. It was annoyingly efficient.

"Afraid you'll lose?"

Cloud made a face and scrubbed harder. "Reached my limit spending time with you, s'all."

"So that's a _yes_."

Cloud slammed the plate in the sink and turned around, arms crossed. "No," he said. "It's exactly what I said it is."

Sephiroth leaned back against the fridge, all lazy grace, relaxed in a way Cloud wasn't used to at all. He smirked at him, which _was_ familiar, but the lack of a leather coat and a steel blade took away some of its impact. "It's a game of chess, Cloud, not a fight to the death. Come along, now. I even made you dinner."

Cloud's entire face went red, and it wasn't just with anger. He refused to admit he was blushing. _Refused_. "I don't want to!"

"I can't play chess by myself," Sephiroth continued, looking even more amused.

"Then you should've had Rufus send over a deck of cards," he snapped, turning back to the sink and picking up the scrubber again. "So you could play solitaire. Solitarily."

"I think that plate is probably clean, Cloud."

Gritting his teeth, Cloud whirled around again, the scrubber held aloft in his hand. "Would you just leave me alone?"

Sephiroth raised one eyebrow at him. "Or what? You'll...scrub me?"

"I'll dump dishwater in your hair," Cloud said, scowling, and then Sephiroth laughed.

It was low, warm, and there wasn't a hint of vindictiveness or sadistic pleasure in it. Cloud lowered the scrubber, and Sephiroth's brief smile faded. They both looked at each other in solemn, considering silence for a few moments.

_I can't do this. It's fucking with my head too much. Goddamn it, why do you have to act like a person instead of a monster?_

Cloud took a slow, deep breath. "I don't know how to play chess," he said, unsure why he was offering this information. It felt like an admission of weakness, but it was sort of worth it for the look of horrified shock he received in return for making it.

"You don't know how to play chess," Sephiroth stated. "I've been vanquished twice -"

"Three times," Cloud corrected, helpfully.

"-_three_ times, by a man who can't play chess?"

Cloud smiled at him, feeling a lot more cheerful all of a sudden at how _disgruntled_ Sephiroth looked by that admission. "Looks like it."

"That's unacceptable. I've not seen you fight, so I assuming you're somewhat proficient if you managed to overtake me, but if you don't know how to play chess I'm going to assume it was more dumb luck than skill."

"It wasn't a game of chess, Sephiroth, it was a battle."

"Yes, thank you, Cloud," Sephiroth said, annoyed. Cloud should have been worried about making him mad, maybe, but instead it was sort of gratifying. Even entertaining. "But both of these things require strategic thinking, and chess is a way of both learning and practicing that without bloodying someone."

"That's ironic, coming from you."

"That's really not what _irony_ means, Cloud."

"I'm starting to see why you didn't have very many friends, even before you went crazy," said Cloud.

Sephiroth didn't look particularly bothered. "You're not the first person who's said that." He pointed towards the door. "Go to the living room. We're playing chess."

"What - no! Stop ordering me around, Sephiroth, this isn't the army and you don't make the rules here, remember?"

"Fine." Sephiroth gave him a sly look. "We'll negotiate. What are your terms, Strife?"

Cloud considered it for a moment. "I'll play chess with you, but only after dinner. That you have to make." He pointed the scrubber at Sephiroth. "And you have to put chicken in mine, not just tofu. And spices. And I'm putting sauces on it, you can make them if you want but if not, you can't lecture me about sodium intake." Cloud cleared his throat. "Or about my Black Chocobo drinks."

"I'll be the very picture of restraint," Sephiroth assured him. "And I don't like teriyaki, but I do like orange-ginger sauce. If that's acceptable as a replacement, of course."

"Who doesn't like teriyaki sauce?" Cloud asked, blinking. "That's … I've never heard anyone say that."

"I had too much of it, in Wutai," Sephiroth said, shrugging. "Do we have a deal or not, Cloud?"

Cloud nodded. "We do." Without thinking, he held out his hand. When he realized he'd just invited his nemesis to touch him, he nearly snatched it back - but he wasn't about to show any kind of fear, so he just raised his chin and waited for Sephiroth to do something.

Sephiroth took a step forward and reached out, slowly, as if he were giving Cloud time to change his mind. Cloud's heart was beating unpleasantly fast. The only thing Sephiroth had ever touched him with was his masamune. Cloud half-expected Sephiroth's skin to be as cold as his blade - either that, or scaldingly hot like the pain it always caused.

It was neither. Sephiroth's hand was as warm as anyone else's as it closed around Cloud's. They shook very quickly, and Cloud snatched his hand back. Somehow, he still felt like he'd been burned.

* * *

The chess lessons went better than Cloud expected. Sephiroth was a surprisingly good teacher, even if he tended to over-explain things and use way more words than strictly necessary to make a point.

"You just have to tell me that my bishop can't move that way, not why the piece was called that in the first place," Cloud said, exasperated with Sephiroth's forced history lesson.

"Understanding the complexities of the game is part of learning it," Sephiroth said, twirling one of the pieces in his long fingers. "And your bishop can't move that way, Cloud."

Cloud huffed a breath and tried another move. "This game is stupid." At Sephiroth's sigh, he glared hotly. "What now?"

"Bishops can't move that way, either." Sephiroth said, moving Cloud's piece back to where it was originally. "I'd explain why, but apparently you already know everything."

Annoyed by the (probably valid) chastisement, Cloud picked up one of his pieces and reached over, knocking Sephiroth's king off the board onto the floor. "I win!" He wiggled the piece in his fingers at Sephiroth. "Now you're going to tell me it's impossible for a pawn to take out the king, huh."

"No. It's not impossible," Sephiroth said, his eyes meeting Cloud's. "It's just not very likely." He reached down and picked up his king, placing it back on the board. "Clearly, I'm going to have to explain all of this again."

Cloud groaned. "No matter what, you always find a way to torture me."

"Then you should anticipate it better. Listen, Cloud." Sephiroth went through the explanation again, and Cloud paid attention because he had, actually, always wanted to learn how to play chess.

Cloud attempted daring, bold and obvious moves at first, which Sepihroth counteracted easily. It took a few games before Cloud refined his strategy, and stopped losing in less than ten minutes flat.

He still _lost_, though. Sephiroth was very good at chess. It made Cloud wonder if it really _was_ dumb luck that made him win all those battles of theirs.

Cloud wouldn't go so far as to admit he was looking forward to his nightly chess game with Sephiroth, but he didn't hate it. Plus, it meant Sephiroth cooked dinner and Cloud could stop eating so many turkey sandwiches.

Sephiroth also started making enough that they sometimes had leftovers for lunch the next day.

"What, are you going to use that to bribe me into playing some other game? _Yahtzee_?" Cloud asked, when he noticed the carefully stacked containers of both vegetables, meat, tofu and sauce in the fridge after dinner.

"What's that?" Sephiroth asked him, head tilted. "I've never heard of it."

Sometimes, Sephiroth acted as if he really _were_ the child of an alien. His upbringing, Cloud pieced together, was so strict it hardly allowed for leisure activities. Cloud was certain he didn't learn chess just for fun - especially since he'd mentioned _Hojo_ was the one who taught him.

"It's a dice game," Cloud explained. "You have to get combinations of numbers and things, before the other players do." Or, you timed yourself and how long it took you to get the combinations, then tried to do it faster the next time. Cloud didn't have very many friends growing up, either.

"Oh. I've never played that, but I have played the one where you make words out of tiles."

"_Scrabble_?" At Sephiroth's nod, Cloud blinked in surprise. "You played Scrabble with _Hojo_?"

"No, with Genesis and Angeal. Genesis always gets angry when I win because of letter combinations and double-word score blocks, instead of showing off an impressive vocabulary. Which is the only way he thinks you should be allowed to win." Sephiroth snorted. "Somehow Angeal always ends up with tiles comprised entirely of consonants."

Cloud realized Sephiroth was speaking in the present tense, about the same time Sephiroth himself did. He tilted his head, hiding briefly behind the fall of his hair and saying, "Ended up with," he corrected himself, so quietly that Cloud could barely hear him.

Without another word, he brushed past Cloud and walked out of the room.

As Cloud watched him go, he realized with a start that he believed Sephiroth was telling the truth about his memory loss.

And it scared the hell out of him.

_Checkmate._


	10. Come Undone

**AN**: I'll go ahead and admit right now that I've never built a gazebo in my entire life, and am highly unlikely to do so. Ever. I do, however, offer some Seph/Cloud makeouts in this chapter as a way to distract you from any inaccuracies. :D?

Also thank you so much to everyone who is reading! I'm so glad you are enjoying the story! Your kind words are much appreciated 3 

**Chapter 10: Come Undone**

Reno brought the gazebo kit via helicopter. Sephiroth and Cloud both reacted to the noise like they were going to have to fight something deadly with a lot of teeth, and went to draw their weapons.

Or rather, Cloud drew his weapon. Sephiroth grabbed the first thing he could find, which was a kitchen broom.

Cloud gave him a pointed look. "Is that for you to sweep up whatever's left when I'm done kicking ass?"

Sephiroth spun the broom around like a shinai - he'd been trained in Kendo, and was very good at it. The gesture did lose some impact when debris came out of the bristles, though.

"You know how I like to keep things clean," he said, just as Reno's voice came crashing through the resort.

"Hey! Where d'you want all this stuff, anyway?" Reno appeared in the doorway, all sly eyes and improbably bright hair. "Also, hey, Sephiroth - boss says they've got one of these kits to build your own swimming pool, too, when you're done with the gazebo. Says to tell you thanks, for helping up the resale value on the property."

Sephiroth put the broom down and pointed to the living room. "You can put it all in there."

"Sure." Reno nodded at Cloud. "Heya, Cloudy. Your energy drinks are in the kitchen. Put them on the table with that chess book you wanted."

Cloud cleared his throat. "Thanks, Reno."

"No problem. It was fun flyin' the bird up here. You should request more large, heavy-type items so I can do it again. Boss always vetoes helicopter flights when it's just for groceries."

"I'm glad to see Rufus is keeping a rein on the company's expenditures," Sephiroth said, watching as Cloud quietly ducked out of the room.

"That, and we don't have any other helicopters left." Reno laughed, and then went to help Rude carry in all of the boxes.

When they'd finally finished carrying everything inside, Rude cleared his throat and said, "Maybe we should've just left all this outside."

Sephiroth closed his eyes briefly, wondering how much of his once-fearsome reputation was being ruined by the events of the last twenty minutes. _Once I brought a country to its knees, now I'm waving brooms around and failing at home improvement projects._ "It's fine. Now I'll be able to organize it."

"Well it's already organized for you," Reno pointed out. "That's why all these boxes have numbers on them. That's the point of a kit, yo."

Sephiroth studied the blueprints with rapt attention, and pointedly ignored both Turks until they got the hint and left him alone. He expelled a breath of relief as he heard the _whir_ of the helicopter as it took to the sky.

His moment of peace was short-lived, as Cloud came in a few moments later. "That's a lot of stuff," he said, surveying the piles of materials.

"Yes." Sephiroth flipped a page in the blueprints.

"Gazebos go outside, though."

Sephiroth flipped a page again, this time with a little more vigor. "Yes, thank you, Cloud. Unless you want to help me carry these boxes to the patio, I believe there's a remedial chess strategy book and some terrible energy drinks waiting for you in the kitchen."

"It's an _intermediate_ chess strategy book, Sephiroth."

Sephiroth raised his eyebrows and glanced at him over the blueprints. "Someone thinks rather highly of their skills."

"And someone thinks they can build a gazebo in the living room," Cloud said, walking over to the stack of boxes and leaning down to pick one up. "Besides. You get to skip over the beginner level stuff when you're playing chess against your arch-nemesis."

"Is that so?" Sephiroth tucked the blueprints beneath his arm and went to pick up a box, following Cloud outside.

"Yeah. I read it somewhere. Do you even know what you're doing?" Cloud put the box down, turning towards Sephiroth with his hands on his hips. "Because I think you don't."

Sephiroth set his box down, too, and then went to retrieve another one from the living room. "There are instructions, Cloud."

"Huh." Cloud picked up another box. "Do they say that step one is _put everything for your outdoor gazebo inside your living room?_"

"No, nor do they say that step two is _procure the assistance of your mouthy, unhelpful, supposed arch-nemesis_."

"_Supposed_ arch-nemesis? Seriously?" Cloud carried the second box out to the deck. "Just 'cause you don't remember doesn't mean you get to demote me."

Sephiroth stared hard at Cloud's back, watching him as he leaned over to set the box down. "I thought you didn't believe me."

Cloud didn't turn around for a few moments, but when he did, his gaze was shuttered. He shrugged. "You're still _you_. It doesn't really change anything."

It did, though. And they both knew it.

Sephiroth didn't say anything, simply turned his attention to the remaining boxes that needed to be moved outside. Neither of them spoke until they were all present and accounted for, and then Sephiroth said, quietly, "Thank you, Cloud."

Whether the expression of gratitude was for the help with the boxes or for believing him, Sephiroth wasn't sure. Cloud looked uncomfortable either way, nodding slightly before leaving Sephiroth alone.

* * *

Building the gazebo was a godsend as far as keeping him busy, involving calculations and measurements, planning and organizing as well as physical activity. Sephiroth spent most of the day outside until the sun went down, and then went inside, showered, had dinner and soundly beat Cloud at chess.

Cloud wasn't friendly by any means, but he occasionally spoke to Sephiroth without venom lacing his every word. He'd even laughed once or twice. He was still moody, intense, and stubborn to a fault, but if his last relationship was any indication, that was apparently Sephiroth's type.

He was rather glad there was only one of Cloud, though. Genesis always said Sephiroth was a masochist, but even Sephiroth didn't think he was _that_ much of one.

Sephiroth admitted part of his fascination with Cloud was not knowing how this unassuming young man managed to defeat him in battle. He'd seen Cloud's weapon, and he admitted to a swordsman's fascination with the removable blades, but it didn't seem like a good idea to ask for a demonstration.

Plus, what was he going to spar with? A broom?

Cloud occasionally came outside while Sephiroth was working on the gazebo, usually to offer unsolicited advice or to hint that it was getting close to dinnertime, and shouldn't Sephiroth be thinking about making something disgustingly healthy involving vegetables?

One afternoon, Sephiroth looked up from the mass of wood that was slowly becoming a base for the gazebo and saw Cloud standing there, silently, holding out a bottle of water. The look on his face vacillated between confused and determined.

Sephiroth stood up, took the bottle and nodded his thanks. He had no idea what precipitated the small act of kindness, and he rather doubted Cloud did, either.

A week or so into the project, something went awry. Sephiroth wasn't sure what it was, and no amount of staring at the blueprints was providing him with the answer. All he knew was the sections weren't fitting as they should, and while it galled him to have to ask Cloud for help, what he needed was a second set of eyes to help suss out the problem.

Sephiroth went inside and found Cloud sitting at the kitchen table, one of those energy drinks of his opened next to him. He was reading the chess book and scowling at it.

"Yeah?"

"The gazebo and I have arrived at a bit of an impasse," Sephiroth said, by way of greeting.

Cloud's lips twitched. "You're so dramatic." He stood up and stretched. "You need my help or something?"

"I would like your _opinion_," Sephiroth corrected him. He was annoyed, both that he'd asked Cloud for his assistance and that he was noticing how Cloud's muscles shifted beneath his t-shirt.

"So, that's a _yes_." Cloud followed him outside, swearing softly at the brightness of the afternoon sun. "Fuck, it's hot out here."

"Behold," Sephiroth intoned, waving a hand at the gazebo. "The impasse."

Cloud was staring at him strangely. Sephiroth's lips pressed together in annoyance. "What?" His mistake wasn't that obvious, was it?

"You look different."

Sephiroth waited, but no further wisdom was forthcoming. "You have a very irritating habit of not finishing your sentences," he told Cloud.

"You have a very irritating habit of not staying dead," Cloud shot back, but he'd turned his attention to the gazebo. "Lemme see the blueprints."

Sephiroth handed them over, and when he felt a breeze on the back of his neck, he realized what it was that Cloud meant when he said he looked different. Sephiroth had, due to the heat of the day, pulled his hair back into a ponytail while working and forgotten about it.

His hand shot up and he went to tug out the elastic, but he changed his mind and left it alone. It seemed too obvious to take it down now.

Cloud handed him the blueprints back. "I think you just reversed this section," he said, pointing. "You've got the interior on the exterior. That's why the next section isn't fitting right, see? You'll have to take it all down and flip it around, but that's all."

Sephiroth forgot his rising temper in the face of such a simple explanation. "I didn't know that was possible. Should it have indicated there was a right way and a wrong way on the blueprints?"

"Maybe they did," Cloud said. He looked at the blueprints again. "This is like reading Wutainese or something."

"How did you figure that out, if you can't read the blueprints?"

Cloud pointed to the diagram. "It's just...see that part, in the next section? I think that's supposed to be a bench or something to sit on. It has to connect to the part you just built, meaning these things here are supports for it, and those should be on the inside. Because you sit _inside_ the gazebo."

Sephiroth looked at the blueprints and sighed, finally seeing his mistake when he focused on the plan overall instead of the specifics of the section in which he was working. He nodded to show he understood, then said, "If you would concentrate on the board instead of a single move when you played chess, you wouldn't have to read that book."

"Thanks for making this about my sucking at chess, instead of you sucking at building things." Cloud handed him a hammer. "You'll have to take all that down, but if you're careful, you can just build it back the right way instead of having to start over from scratch."

"All right." Sephiroth said, taking the hammer and approaching the wood with a grim, determined face.

"You want some help?" Cloud asked, and it sounded so grudging that it made Sephiroth feel better about accepting his offer.

"If you want," he said, not looking at him.

The two of them worked in companionable silence, dismantling the thing Sephiroth had built slowly, piece by piece, in order to put it back together again.

* * *  
A few days later in the shower, Sephiroth noticed his hand moving slowly up and down his cock. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he wondered why it had taken him this long. It was somewhat disconcerting to think he hadn't even considered availing himself of such a simple, pleasurable form of release, considering the tension and stress of the last few weeks.

Once again, he was thrown at how disconnected he felt from his own body. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the shower tile and tipped his head back, hand moving faster and his breath catching. At one point, he wrapped strands of his hair around his wrist, enough times so that it caught and pulled as he jerked himself faster. He gave a low moan, the sound amplified by the tile of the shower and making him worry, briefly, that Cloud would hear him.

Cloud.

Sephiroth's eyes closed again. He'd never been particularly good at games of fantasy and role-playing in bed, that had always been Genesis's area of expertise. Such things usually left him feeling more awkward than aroused, but in this case, he didn't require an overly-elaborate scenario full of details. It was perhaps a bit strange that his fantasy involved fighting Cloud, but it certainly didn't end with one or the other of them dying.

It ended with Cloud beneath him, fingers tangled in Sephiroth's hair while he moaned and writhed - and staring up at him with that challenging stare, the one that said _I'm on my back for you, but only because you earned it._

It didn't take very long before he came, quietly gasping for breath and leaning against the tiled wall of the shower for support. It left him feeling very good, drowsy and relaxed - at least, until he realized his wing had manifested and was becoming completely sodden beneath the spray from the multiple showerheads.

Sephiroth pressed his forehead to the tile and sighed. He turned off the shower and attempted to shake the water out of his feathers, but it didn't work. The bathroom wasn't large enough to accommodate his wingspan (_I'll be leaving that in my review of your resort, Rufus,_) and when he tried to rustle it, it knocked into things and made a racket.

Sephiroth knew better than to try and retract his wing while wet, as having done so before caused a good deal of pain and a trip to see Hojo. Luckily, it was warm outside.

Sephiroth dragged a comb through his hair, pulled on a pair of pajama pants and went out onto the small balcony adjoining his bedroom. He launched himself into the air, intending only to fly long enough to dry the feathers. But it was very relaxing, flying, and the exhilaration of feeling _free_, even knowing he had to go back eventually, was almost intoxicating.

Sephiroth hadn't realized how long he'd been gone until he approached the house, and saw a very angry Cloud Strife standing on his balcony. Sephiroth landed in front of him, wing spread out, waiting for Cloud to express his obvious displeasure.

"What the hell were you doing?"

"Drying off," Sephiroth said, wing fluttering behind him. It definitely felt dry, though now he had some leaves and twigs caught up in his feathers.

"Why?"

Sephiroth crossed his arms over his chest. "I would think that was obvious."

"You know what towels are, right?"

Sephiroth sighed. "They're not as convenient for drying off feathers, Cloud."

"Why was your wing wet in the first place?"

_You don't want to know._ "As you know, I've been studying the physics of my wing and I suppose I wasn't thinking about where I was, when it manifested." There, that was close enough to the truth, wasn't it? "I didn't intend to be gone for more than a few moments, Cloud. I apologize for not letting you know I was leaving."

"Yeah, whatever," Cloud muttered, stepping aside and jerking his head towards the door. "Can we just go inside?"

Sephiroth, feeling a bit out of sorts at being treated like he'd come home late for curfew, moved past Cloud and maybe, _maybe_, knocked him a bit on the side of the head with his wing. Lightly.

A few of his feathers fluttered to the floor as he did so.

"Are you molting?" Cloud asked him, closing the patio door behind him. "Because I think you're molting."

"I am not molting," Sephiroth snapped, flapping his wing just to see. A few more feathers were dislodged, but no more than normal. "This is just what happens."

"You have some leaves stuck in, ah. In there. In your feathers." Cloud made a noise. "I can't fucking believe my life, sometimes."

_Try having a wing thrust out of your back when you come in the shower,_ Sephiroth thought. He gently rustled his feathers, trying to dislodge the leaves. He was the same way about his wing as he was about his hair, so he tried again, though standing shirtless in pajama pants and flapping his wing in front of the man he'd just gotten off thinking about - it felt a bit like that incident with the broom, earlier.

Ridiculous.

"They're still there," Cloud said, then sighed. "Here."

Before Sephiroth could tell him not to, Cloud moved closer and reached his hand out, and started preening his feathers.

It had the same effect as having his hair pulled, only it was more arousing than relaxing. When Cloud's fingers skirted against the joint and the bone, Sephiroth caught the noise he made behind his teeth, trying not to pull away.

"Oh. Did that hurt?" Cloud asked, giving him a weird look.

Sephiroth almost laughed. "No," he said, though he doubted Cloud would believe him, with his voice as strangled as it was.

"You sure?" Cloud asked, and made his touch lighter. It felt teasing in a way Sephiroth was certain Cloud did not intend.

"Yes," Sephiroth said, flaring his wing a little, as if trying to discourage him from continuing. "It's fine. You can stop."

"It it didn't hurt, then why do you want me to stop?" Cloud asked him, fingers running through the feathers like Sephiroth was an unruly chocobo he was trying to gentle.

Sephiroth reached out and grabbed Cloud's wrist in his fingers, stilling his movements. "Because it feels _good_, Cloud. And given the choice, I think you'd rather cause me pain than pleasure."

Cloud was staring at him with wide, bright eyes. He was so close, Sephiroth could feel the warmth of his body heat even though the only places they were touching were his fingers on Cloud's wrist, and Cloud's on his wing.

_How long has it been since anyone touched me?_

"I'd rather not cause anyone pain," Cloud said, not moving his hand away. "Even you."

Sephiroth tried to push Cloud's hand away. "Leave it. I'll attend to it myself."

Cloud's face settled into a familiar stubborn expression. His fingers curled into the feathers. "I'm not going to stop just because it _doesn't_ hurt."

"Why not?" Sephiroth asked him, eyes searching Cloud's. "It's not just that it doesn't hurt, Cloud, it's that what you're doing _feels very good_. After everything I've done to you, how can you want me to do anything but suffer?"

"Because I'm not like that," Cloud said, simply. He tugged against Sephiroth's hold on his wrist. "Let go."

Sephiroth stared at him, wary and mistrustful, but he supposed if Cloud was determined to prove some point or another, he should probably comply. He owed him at least that much, didn't he? Slowly, he uncurled his fingers from around Cloud's wrist.

The room was quiet. Cloud's fingers combed through his feathers, skirted the edge of bone and muscle, and Sephiroth wondered if perhaps Cloud was trying to torture him with pleasure instead of pain. Eventually, unable to keep how good it felt from showing on his face, Sephiroth tilted his head to hide behind the fall of his hair.

Cloud's fingers stilled momentarily. "Why're you hiding your face like that? Were you lying about it not hurting?"

"No," Sephiroth said, struggling to keep his voice even. "Forget it, Cloud."

Cloud's bright eyes narrowed, and he tugged a little harder at the feathers. Sephiroth had to stop himself from shuddering in pleasure. "You don't want me to see that you like it?"

"No."

"But why?" Cloud demanded. "Is it the same reason why you won't wear your hair back when you're outside, anymore? Can't stand for me to see you _actually feel something_, like a fucking human being?" One of his hands dropped away from Sephiroth's wing, but before Sephiroth could answer him or say anything at all to that -

Cloud reached up and tugged, briefly but firmly, at his hair.

Sephiroth moved in a whirl, wing flaring as he grabbed Cloud's hands by the wrists again and spun them around, shoving him back, hard, against the wall.

"Sephiroth -"

"No," Sephiroth hissed at him, slamming Cloud's arms against the wall. "Do you want to know why I don't want you to put your hands on me? Fine. I'll show you."

Sephiroth lowered his head and kissed him. It was a hard, rough, punishing kiss, and he fully expected Cloud to shove him away, to attack, to do anything but _kiss him back_ - which was exactly what Cloud was doing.

He made a sound against Sephiroth's mouth, angry like a growl, but he was kissing back with the same intensity, the same fervor. Sephiroth could feel Cloud against him, all tense, lean muscles vibrating with coiled energy.

"This," Sephiroth muttered against his mouth, "This is what I don't want you to see."

Cloud yanked hard at Sephiroth's hold on his wrists, and Sephiroth let him go. Cloud grabbed Sephiroth's hair again, but this wasn't a gentle tug like before. He had a handful of it and he _pulled_, hard enough to yank Sephiroth's head back and away from him, hard enough to tear a low moan from Sephiroth's throat when he did it.

Instead of speaking, Cloud's other hand went around the back of Sephiroth's neck, using it to pull him down and kiss him again. Sephiroth felt him bite his lower lip, hard, between his teeth. He opened his mouth, and Cloud made a noise and kissed him hotly.

Sephiroth knew if he didn't stop this, and soon, he was going to fuck Cloud right there against the wall. But he didn't want to stop, it felt so _good_ - better than having his wings preened, better than having his hair pulled, better than touching himself in the shower. He pressed up against Cloud, aroused and feeling dangerously close to losing control -

_Maybe that's what he wants. Maybe he wants you to try it, so he can have the reason he needs to kill you._

Sephiroth tore his mouth away from Cloud's, taking a few steps backwards. When he saw Cloud leaning against the wall, staring at him with wide eyes, his mouth parted and face flushed...he almost didn't care if it was a trap, he wanted it anyway. He put more distance between the two of them, tense and uncertain.

"I - I can't -" Cloud reached up and touched his mouth, blinking like he had no idea what had just happened. He looked so young in that moment, like the infantryman he must have been before Sephiroth and ShinRa did their best to break him.

Sephiroth turned away. His blood ran cold at the thought of what he'd just done, what sort of progress he'd ruined by acting on impulse instead of logic. That was the sort of thing he'd expect from his insane alter-ego, and the implications of that made him sick to his stomach. "Get out of here, Cloud."

"Sephiroth -" Whatever he was going to say, Cloud must have thought better of it, because all he did was sigh, softly, and then Sephiroth heard him leave the room and close the door quietly behind him.

When he was gone, Sephiroth curled his wing protectively around himself for comfort. He hadn't done that since the first night he spent in Rufus's cell, locked in the darkness amidst the crumbling ruins of the only home he'd ever known, without any clue as to what had happened or how he'd gotten there.

Sephiroth turned his face into the down of his feathers, breathing in the familiar scent and trying to calm his restlessness.

Outside, an engine roared. Sephiroth listened to the sound of Cloud's motorcycle as it faded off into the distance, and wondered if he would come back. 


	11. Taste in Men

**Chapter Eleven: Taste in Men **

Cloud drove fifteen miles in a daze, taking sharp turns at breakneck speeds and flying down the winding roads before finally regaining some sense of self-preservation and pulling over. He switched off the engine and stood in the humid, warm night, the air heavy as if heralding an impending storm, and tried to wrap his brain around what had just happened.

The first thing he couldn't quite figure out was why he'd been so insistent upon preening Sephiroth's _wing_, for fuck's sake - because Cloud could admit that if he hadn't done that, Sephiroth never would have touched him at all. Cloud was usually loathe to invade other people's personal space, even when they made it clear they didn't mind. Intimacy of that kind had never come very easily to him.

The other thing he didn't understand was why Sephiroth had stopped, especially when it had to have been obvious that Cloud was enjoying what they were doing. And that look Sephiroth had given him, when he'd pulled away...it was the first time, in all their various altercations, that Cloud had ever seen him look afraid.

Cloud had seem him angry, smug, coldly triumphant and even, say, _unpleasantly surprised_, but afraid? Never. If anything, he tended to underestimate Cloud too much to be afraid of him.

_Unless we're making out, apparently._

That Cloud had enjoyed it, or that it had happened all, didn't surprise Cloud as much as it maybe should have. It was hard to deny they had a powerful attraction to each other, buried beneath all the rage and violence and bloodshed. Why else would they gravitate towards each other as they did? Take away the mistrust and pain of their past, and the attraction was still there. It just needed some other outlet, and sex was the obvious choice, wasn't it?

Cloud might have been rationalizing his behavior, but it was more his style to tear himself apart rather than find some reason _not_ to feel guilty about something.

The thing was, he no longer thought of Sephiroth - this Sephiroth, the man who built gazebos and cooked dinner and chewed on the end of his pen when he did crossword puzzles - as the cold, grim angel of death Cloud had fought and killed three times over. And he knew he had to be careful, because Sephiroth _was_ still the man who torched his hometown in the fire of his uncontrollable fury - but now, a tiny voice in Cloud's mind reminded him _he torched villages in Wutai, and everyone called him a hero. Even you._

Sephiroth's words to him a few nights ago, _there are no heroes in war, Cloud,_ rang truer than he wanted them to. The more your enemy was dehumanized, the easier it was to justify killing them. ShinRa dehumanized Sephiroth so much so that it couldn't really be that much of a surprise, could it, when Sephiroth turned around and did the same thing to himself?

Cloud stared up at the sky, watching the clouds gather and drown out the moon. He needed someone to tell him how to make this okay, how to keep it all from happening again - but there was no one there to tell him that. Not Aerith, not Zack, not the Planet. And maybe that was the point.

Maybe the only voice that could guide him out of the dark was his own, and it was time to start listening to it.

There was a rumble of thunder in the distance as Cloud pulled his goggles back on and revved up his engine, getting ready to outrun the storm on his way back to Healen.

He barely made it back when the sky opened up. He put the bike in the garage and went back outside to the driveway, arms wide, and stood for a moment in the rain.

Not to be healed, not to be blessed, but just because it felt good.

Sephiroth wasn't the only one who'd lost touch with his humanity. As he went inside the house, Cloud decided all he could really do was try and make sure it didn't happen again - to either of them.

Right after he turned off the air conditioning, because _Odin's balls_, he was freezing. Four years in Hojo's tanks, and he couldn't have given Cloud a nice, warm wing to curl up in? Fucking asshole.

* * *  
Despite any epiphanies that happened during the night, in the morning, Cloud was still Cloud. And he had no idea how to go out and tell Sephiroth _I don't want you to act like you're not human, and I think I want you, but I have to be able to still kill you if you go crazy again._

So instead, Cloud angsted about what to say while he tried - and failed - to make himself breakfast, settling instead for a bowl of sugary cereal.

_Sephiroth, Calamity's Child, builds a gazebo while Cloud Strife, Gaia's Champion, eats Chocopuffs because he can't make himself an omelet._

Cloud went outside with a bottle of water, still unsure what to say, but fuck it. He'd never had a battle plan when he faced off with Sephiroth before, not really, so why should he start now?

"I'm still gonna kill you," Cloud told him, when Sephiroth noticed his arrival and fixed those strange, reptilian eyes of his on Cloud's.

"Back to this, again, are we," Sephiroth said, sighing.

Cloud tossed him a bottle of water, which Sephiroth caught easily. "I meant. If I need to. I'm still gonna be okay to do that."

Sephiroth opened his bottle of water and drank it, his eyes still on Cloud's. "Thank you for the reminder, Cloud."

"You're welcome, Sephiroth."

They stared at each other again. Cloud cleared his throat. "You're almost, uh. Done with that. The gazebo, I mean."

"I think so." Sephiroth turned and looked over his shoulder. "I'm not quite sure what the purpose of this structure is."

"To sit in. And, um. Have some shade?"

"There's already a porch," Sephiroth said, as if Cloud were very stupid not to have noticed that.

"You're the one that wanted to build a gazebo," Cloud reminded him.

"I wanted a _project_," Sephiroth corrected. "I had no idea people wasted their time with such frivolous nonsense. A strong storm would knock this over, it's not very sturdy."

"You should have gone for the swimming pool," Cloud said. "Then we could have at least cooled off."

"That would have been too easy," Sephiroth said, very seriously, probably not realizing Cloud was joking because neither of them were very good at that. "The only thing that takes a significant amount of time is waiting for it to fill up with water."

Cloud nodded. He had no idea what else to say.

Neither did Sephiroth, who finished the water and handed the bottle back, with a reminder to _please put that in with the recycling, Cloud._

It was hard to believe this was the same man who had grabbed Cloud and kissed him just the night before. Cloud was just about to go inside when Sephiroth said, "Since you're here, would you please come and hold this beam so I can hammer it?"

"Sure." Cloud followed him into the gazebo, noticing it was very fancy, with a lot of intricate latticework. He made a face. "If I had to pick a gazebo style for you, this wouldn't be it."

"No?" Sephiroth stood beside him, showing him where to hold the beam and moving a few steps away to hammer it. "What would it be?" he asked, and the words sounded strange, like he was biting them out between clenched teeth.

Which he was, Cloud realized, because he had a nail between his teeth while he lined up the wood. That was - huh. "Uh. Dunno. More…" he waved a hand. "Simple." He smiled a little despite himself. "Taller, maybe."

Sephiroth turned and looked at him, but didn't say anything. He took the nail out of his teeth and lined it up. "Hold that steady, please."

Cloud did, which was good, because Sephiroth hammered it like he was trying to pulverize the wood instead of secure it. "Geez. They make this for people _without_ mako-enhancements, you know. Don't gotta hit it quite that hard."

"Your opinion was not requested, Cloud."

"Comes with my assistance. Free of charge."

"Lucky me." Sephiroth squinted at the beam. "Hmm. This isn't quite right."

Cloud watched him measure something, not sure what was wrong as it seemed fine to him. Sephiroth was a little obsessive. The thought almost made him laugh out loud.

"This is probably the most boring thing we've ever done," Cloud told him. "The two of us." He thought about last night again and flushed, hoping if Sephiroth noticed, he would just think Cloud was sweaty. Not that he wanted to look like holding up a plank of wood wore him out. Damn it.

"My apologies for the lack of a thrilling encounter." Sephiroth had the nail between his teeth again, barely paying attention to Cloud.

Irrationally annoyed at being ignored, Cloud said, "They can't all be _nail biters_," and waited to see if Sephiroth caught his - admittedly lame - pun.

Sephiroth pressed the nail against the wooden surface and turned to look at him. Without cracking a smile, he said, "That would have been funny, if your delivery wasn't so wooden."

"_Planks_ for the advice," Cloud responded, just as seriously.

Sephiroth nodded. "You're welcome. Next time, don't screw it up."

Cloud thought for a few seconds, but nothing was coming to him. "Damn it."

"Victory at last," Sephiroth said, and Cloud saw him give a very small smile before he started hammering. When he was finished, he stepped back, observed his work, and nodded. He turned towards Cloud. "Thank you."

Cloud noticed a few things simultaneously; one, except for his distinctive bangs framing his face, the rest of Sephiroth's hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Two, he was damp with sweat, his fair skin flushed with either sun or heat, and three...he had a pale smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose.

"What is it?" Sephiroth asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

Cloud looked up at him. "Why did you stop?"

"Because the beam was secure."

Despite the fact Sephiroth's expression didn't change, Cloud had a feeling he was deliberately misunderstanding him. "No. I mean. Last night."

Sephiroth's lashes veiled his eyes for a moment, but he didn't avoid the question. "Because I would rather you kill me for actually being insane, not because I have unfortunate taste in men."

Cloud's eyebrows went up to his hairline. "Unfortunate taste in men? _Unfortunate taste in men?_"

Sephiroth crossed his arms obstinately. "You don't think being attracted to the man who's killed you three times is unfortunate?"

"You deserved it, though."

"Is that supposed to make it better?"

Cloud shrugged. "No? I don't know."  
They were standing very close together again. Sephiroth was so warm, Cloud could feel the man's body heat burning through the thin fabric of his cotton shirt. There was very little breeze, and the air in the gazebo was stifling -

The gazebo. Fuck. Cloud took a step back. He was not making out with Sephiroth in a _gazebo_ at ten in the morning. No. "I, um. I'm not gonna try and kill you if you...try that. Again."

"Try what, again?"

Cloud glared, waving a hand. "You know."

Sephiroth gave him an infuriating smirk. "Maybe I want to hear you say it."

"You'll be waiting a long time," Cloud muttered. "I'm not any good at talking."

"I noticed."

"Oh, like you're that much better?" Cloud demanded, hotly.

Sephiroth was suddenly right _there_, pushing him back against the half-wall of the gazebo, lowering his head until his mouth was very close to Cloud's ear. "You're saying that you're not going to try and kill me for putting my hands on you, and the reason you're telling me is because you want me to do it again. Is that right, Cloud?"

Cloud couldn't hide his sudden shiver. "You want it, too," he said, cranky despite the heat burning slowly through his blood.

"Yes." Sephiroth's voice was lazily amused, warm in a way Cloud had never heard it before. "I want it, too."

Cloud closed his eyes briefly, then reached up and grabbed at the mass of silver gathered in Sephiroth's ponytail. He remembered the noise Sephiroth made, last night, when Cloud had pulled his hair. He tangled his fingers in the strands and tugged - more of a tease than anything, but he wanted to see if that got a similar response.

Sephiroth made a very attractive sound, and Cloud almost forgot his self-imposed _no kissing in the gazebo_ rule. Their eyes met, and Cloud was struck for a moment by Sephiroth's pupils, wide and dilated, by the soft mako glow in his eyes.

As a young, impressionable ShinRa recruit, Cloud had thought of Sephiroth as a shining, beautiful thing to be admired from afar - like a star in the night sky. Even as an adversary, his features cold and terrifyingly inhuman, twisted as they were by hate and madness - he'd still been beautiful.

But it was nothing compared to the Sephiroth Cloud was seeing right now, with his pale, damp hair clinging to his flushed face, impossibly high cheekbones and that slight smirk on his full mouth…

"This is going to end badly," Cloud told him, very seriously.

"Hmm," Sephiroth said, and bit, very gently, at the edge of Cloud's ear.

* * *  
Just because the tension between them had more to do with sex than violence (for the time being), it didn't make Sephiroth any easier to be around. Cloud was just as skittish as before, if not more so, and Cloud was pretty sure Sephiroth noticed.

"You're enjoying this," Cloud accused him after dinner, when he'd nearly jumped a foot in the air at feeling the other man suddenly behind him. Sephiroth was putting a dish away, in a cabinet right over Cloud's head.

Sephiroth hadn't even bothered to lie. "More than a little," he admitted.

Cloud washed the sink out and wiped it clean with a towel six or seven times, reminding himself that he'd faced Sephiroth at the height of his insanity and never backed down, despite being fucking terrified. He should have no problems whatsoever dealing with Sephiroth when he was just being smug and a little annoying, right?

He was also very attractive, though, with his hair wet from a shower and slicked back off his face. It threw his sharply angled features into stark relief, accented the exotic slant of his strange eyes. Cloud wondered for the first time how the man was Hojo's son, as the only physical feature they seemed to share was height.

_Well, and they both went crazy._ Cloud read the same files Rufus had prepared for Sephiroth, and he almost wondered if Vincent wasn't Sephiroth's father, instead. Vincent had been in love with Lucrecia (who was not, Cloud discovered after reading the files, worthy of Vincent's nearly fiendish devotion and thank the gods for Yuffie for making him realize that), and certainly he was more attractive than Hojo. But the DNA evidence didn't lie, and it showed quite clearly that Hojo was indeed Sephiroth's biological father.

Then again, maybe it was for the best that it wasn't Vincent. Cloud was already fucked up enough, without being attracted to two men who were _father and son_. Just like with Rufus Shinra, Cloud had never mentioned or acted on his attraction to Vincent Valentine, and he'd been genuinely happy for his brooding, quiet friend when he'd married the loud, cheerful Yuffie.

Which, fuck, was his taste _stubborn, impossible men with daddy issues_? Cloud had never thought too much about his sexual preferences, other than to get angry about why they had to be so fucking complicated.

Well, there'd been Zack, too - and that hadn't been complicated, but when he thought about it, Cloud wasn't sure if he was attracted to Zack as much as he wanted to _be_ Zack. Given his actions after Zack's death and how he'd thought he _was_ Zack, had convinced himself he was a Soldier First Class like his friend and mistook so many of Zack's memories for his own….

Then there had been Aerith, beautiful, lovely Aerith, with her quiet smile and her ageless eyes - had Cloud been attracted to her, or had it been because of Zack? And Tifa, had he ever looked at her for the person she was instead of what she represented? What the fuck was his problem?

"You're glaring at that sink," Sephiroth said, his voice startling Cloud from his sudden fit of unwelcome self-introspection. "How has it managed to offend you?"

Cloud was acutely aware of Sephiroth's presence behind him, close but not too close, as if he were aware Cloud's mood had taken a downward turn and he was giving Cloud some space. If that were true, Cloud appreciated it. He didn't want to appreciate anything about Sephiroth. Cloud scowled fiercely down at the sink and then turned around.

Sephiroth didn't look too surprised to be the next recipient of Cloud's glare. He was probably fairly used to it, by now.

"Is there a problem?" Sephiroth asked, politely.

"Unfortunate taste in men," Cloud answered, and despite his mood, his mouth quirked up a bit on the side. He looked down at the towel he was holding, which he was twisting slowly around his hands until it was tight enough to hurt.

Cloud sighed and tossed it in the sink, leaving the kitchen and going to the living room. Sephiroth didn't follow him, but Cloud wasn't sure if that was because Sephiroth was still giving Cloud some space, or if he was going back and cleaning up after Cloud. Because he did that a lot. The man was as obsessive about cleaning as he was everything else.

Either way, Cloud thought about going to the living room, thought about going to his own room, but decided in the end to go to Sephiroth's. He wasn't sure why - other than the obvious - and as he waited he prowled around, looking at things. The room was neat, of course, with the bed made (Cloud's bed had not been made since the first day he'd shown up at Healen and un-made it), a few books on the bedside table, and files and whatever else Sephiroth was working on neatly arranged on the small desk near the window.

There was a pad of paper and a pen - with the cap closed, though Cloud noted it was chewed on, and he wondered if Sephiroth was even aware he did that - on the desk, and Sephiroth's handwriting, precise and even.

_Possibility of a trigger implanted to override subject upon learning of origins?_

The word "subject" made Cloud frown. He had a vague memory - though he didn't know if it were his own, or Zack's - of Sephiroth in the ShinRa Mansion, obsessively pouring through books and trying to learn more about Jenova.

Uneasily, Cloud wondered if there was some pattern to all of this, and if it was maybe not a good idea to encourage Sephiroth to research his background. Then again, didn't he have the right to know what happened to him?

_What if it means he goes crazy and kills everyone again?_

_It means you have to stop him._

The weight of that responsibility, _stop Sephiroth at all costs_, settled around him like a heavy, dragging weight. He took the pen, uncapped it, and drew a picture of a stick figure standing on a planet, then the gave the stick figure long, flowing hair. Then Cloud drew a circle around it and drew a line through the center, the international symbol for _no_.

He left the pen uncapped, just because, and went to look out of the glass door leading to the balcony. He could see Sephiroth in the reflection when he entered the room, watched him move quietly across the hardwood floor and stand behind Cloud.

He stood closer, this time. Cloud met his eyes in the glass. They stared at each other for a long moment, and the tension might have been pleasurable, all heat and anticipation, if not for everything else that lay beneath it.

Before Sephiroth could say or do anything, Cloud turned and pushed at his shoulders, not gently, moving him backwards. Sephiroth's eyes flashed and Cloud could see him trying to work out if this was going to be a fight or not, but he didn't give him any other hints, just pushed again until Sephiroth's knees hit the back of the low bed.

"Cloud -"

"I don't want to talk," Cloud told him, flatly, and pushed again. Sephiroth sat on the bed, and Cloud climbed on top of him and straddled him on his knees.

Sephiroth tilted his head up. His hair was still damp, but his bangs were almost dry and were already standing up, framing his face. For a moment Cloud tried to see the monster he'd fought on the ShinRa Tower, the madman he'd felled in Nibelheim, and couldn't.

And that scared him more than anything. "I don't know who you are," he said, hands resting on Sephiroth's shoulders, his eyes searching the other man's for answers neither of them knew.

"That's because you keep waiting for me to be someone else," Sephiroth said, very quietly.

Cloud didn't want to think about that, about what it meant or how it was true. About how part of him wanted to apologize, and part of him… "Can you blame me?"

"No," Sephiroth said. "I can't."

Cloud reached up and slid his fingers into Sephiroth's hair, twisting his fingers around still-damp strands. He tugged, then pulled a little harder. "It feels like the second I believe this is you, I'm going to get a sword through my chest again."

"Hmm." Sephiroth made that noise, the one Cloud remembered from so many of their altercations but which never sounded quite the same as it did now. "You'll have to settle for a broom. My sword is back in Midgar."

Cloud didn't smile, but he relaxed a little - or, rather, the tension in his muscles became more enjoyable, caused by something other than his own inner angst. "Edge. Not Midgar. Midgar is gone."

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed, one of his hands sliding around to Cloud's hip. "I thought you didn't want to talk, Cloud."

"I don't. But I like it when you're wrong about something." He did smile, then, and pulled hard on Sephiroth's hair at the same time. When Sephiroth gave a sharp moan, he leaned down and kissed him.

It was different, this time, without the heat of anger behind it, without the sudden _shock_ of finding Sephiroth's mouth on his own. Cloud kissed him without hesitating, because that had never been a good idea when it came to Sephiroth before, so why should it be any different, now?

"You're a very perplexing man, Strife," Sephiroth said, when Cloud pulled back to breathe. His eyes were bright, pupils dilated.

"Yeah." Cloud kissed him again, breathing fast, shifting on Sephiroth's lap and settling his weight more firmly on top of the other man's. "You like puzzles, don't you?" Cloud said, biting at Sephiroth's ear just as Sephiroth had done to him, earlier. "So don't complain."

"It wasn't a complaint." Sephiroth's hands were on Cloud's hips, long fingers digging in slightly as Cloud mouthed at his neck. He was very still, though Cloud could hear his breathing getting rougher, could feel his heart beating faster in his chest.

_So he does have one._

Cloud's fingers moved down from Sephiroth's hair to his back, rubbing as if he were looking for the wing joints that should be there, but weren't. "Where does it go?"

"I don't know. I have several theories, but I'm not actually sure."

"Can you feel it, inside you?"

Sephiroth made a low, rumbling noise that vibrated against Cloud's body, and which took Cloud a moment to place as a laugh. He felt himself blush and raised his head, giving Sephiroth as much of a glare as he could manage. "The wing, Sephiroth."

"Yes, Cloud," he said, and for once, his voice saying Cloud's name made Cloud shiver - but not in fear. "I can feel it."

Before Cloud could chastise him for being an adolescent boy, Sephiroth moved with sudden speed and flipped Cloud so he was on his back, arms pinned over his head. "Do you want to see it?" he asked, as close to _playful_ as Cloud had ever thought he'd see.

Cloud blinked up at him, then nodded. "Yeah."

Sephiroth leaned back on his haunches. Cloud settled his newly-freed arms behind his head, watching with interest as Sephiroth crossed his arms and tugged his shirt off. It made his hair fall around his shoulders and forward, and then his wing was just _there_, where it wasn't before.

"If I was fifteen, seeing you do that might have made me come in my jeans," Cloud told him, and then his eyes widened slightly in surprise, because… "For the love of - did that just make you _blush_?"

Sephiroth didn't say anything, but his wing rustled and moved in a whir of feathers...and then hit Cloud on the side of the head.

Cloud batted at it with a scowl. A few feathers settled around him. "I still think you're molting."

"Living with you is very stressful," Sephiroth told him. He flared his wing again, then pulled it back so it was tucked against his back but not retracted, and leaned down to kiss him. His hair fell around them, which Cloud found momentarily overwhelming and pushed at Sephiroth's shoulder.

"I could pull that easier if you put it all in one place."

Sephiroth sighed and rolled his eyes, but once again straightened up and obligingly pulled his hair into a ponytail. Cloud liked that, not only because it got all of that mass of silver out of the way, but it made Sephiroth look human. And he hadn't been lying. It _was_ easier to pull on it, that way.

Which Cloud did, until he felt Sephiroth's hands sliding under his shirt and trying to take it off of him. Cloud sat up a little to help Sephiroth get the shirt off, and he wasn't thinking about anything but how fucking good it felt to have Sephiroth's weight on him, how he could feel Sephiroth hard against him - until he saw Sephiroth staring intently at his chest.

Cloud was not one who was insecure about his body, necessarily - he had lot more important things to be insecure or worried about, when it came right down to it. But he went up on his elbows, distracted by the intensity with which Sephiroth was looking at him...until he saw what must have caught Sephiroth's attention.

"I gave you this," he said, quietly, fingers hovering but not actually touching the thin scar high up on the right side of Cloud's chest.

Cloud saw no reason to lie, so he didn't. He nodded. "Yeah." He saw Sephiroth's eyes moving across his chest, and knew what he was searching for. "I don't have one from...from Nibelheim. The mako took care of it."

Sephiroth nodded. Cloud waited, barely breathing, and watched as Sephiroth's fingers lightly traced the whitened line of flesh. It made him shiver, and as flushed and overheated as he was, Sephiroth's touch still burned.

"I suppose I should apologize," Sephiroth said, still rubbing his fingers over the scar, back and forth.

"Why? 'Cause your aim sucked?"

Sephiroth ignored Cloud's breathless, ill-timed joke. "Because I should be sorry."

"Right. But you're not, because you don't remember doing it," Cloud said. He remembered how it felt, the agony of the blade slicing through flesh and tendons. "And here, you were the one who told me you didn't want me to forget what it felt like." His chin raised slightly. "Most of the time I do, though. Forget."

Sephiroth's small smile faded. "But not now," he said, watching Cloud. "Right now, you remember."

"Yes," Cloud said, feeling dangerous and turned on, unsure what was going to happen, here. "Right now, I remember."

Sephiroth lowered his head and, while Cloud watched, he ran his tongue from one end of the scar to the other. Cloud heard a noise that sounded like a moan and realized he was the one making it, but he couldn't stop.

He grabbed at Sephiroth's hair again, pulling hard. "You're not trying to kiss it and making it better, are you? That's as bad as making out in a gazebo."

Sephiroth made a sound and licked the scar again, eyes rolled upwards so he could watch Cloud while he did it. "No. I like it."

Cloud's eyes narrowed, and he pulled harder. "You _like_ it? What the fuck, Sephiroth."

"I like knowing you survived what I did to you. I find it attractive. Is that a problem?"

"It should be," Cloud huffed, laying back down on the bed as Sephiroth kept kissing his chest. "It's fucked up."

"What about this isn't?"

Cloud thought about that. "I guess you have a point," he said, and then Sephiroth was shifting so he was lying on top of Cloud, grabbing for his hands again to pin his wrists to the bed while he kissed him.

Cloud bit him on the lip, because with his arms pinned he couldn't pull Sephiroth's hair. He thought Sephiroth might like it, and if the moan he got for his efforts was any indication, he was right.

Sephiroth was moving on top of him with the same languid, deadly grace as he wielded the masamune. Cloud remembered he was a swordsman, and that it didn't make him complicit in Sephiroth's dehumanization to appreciate his skill in moving his body, or enjoy the way the callouses on Sephiroth's left hand felt on his body.

Cloud managed to hook a leg around his waist, pushing his hips up at the same time Sephiroth ground down with his own. It felt so good, it nearly made his eyes cross. He couldn't remember the last time anything had felt this good, sex or otherwise.

"Um," Cloud panted, hotly, against Sephiroth's mouth. His arms were free, and one was wrapped desperately in Sephiroth's hair, the other hooked around the back of Sephiroth's neck as they strained and moved against each other. "I think I'm - you should -"

"I should what, Cloud?" Sephiroth asked, moving to kiss at Cloud's neck, nipping lightly with his teeth. He pushed his hips down, hard, making Cloud shudder beneath him. "Stop?"

"No," Cloud said, so crankily he could hear Sephiroth huff a laugh against his neck. "Just, um."

"You're going to come in your jeans, even if you're not fifteen?"

Cloud kicked at him with his heel, but that startled a laugh from him regardless. A laugh that turned into another moan, as Sephiroth reached down and started teasing at the top button of Cloud's jeans, longer fingers rubbing a little beneath the waistband. "Sephiroth."

"Yes, Cloud?"

Cloud kicked him again, this time aiming for his wing. Sephiroth made a noise like a growl and bit him, hard, on the shoulder. He didn't stop the relentless push of his hips, and he shifted so it was his thigh rubbing up against Cloud's erection, instead of his own.

With an annoyed sound, Cloud slammed his head back against the pillow. He wasn't sure what he wanted, or why he was fighting - other than he didn't want to come in his pants, but he _did_ want to come. He tried to reach down and take care of it himself, but Sephiroth gave a dark laugh and grabbed his wrist, pulling it away.

"I don't think so," he said.

Cloud tried to kick him in the wing again.

Sephiroth's wing flared out, and he gave Cloud a challenging stare and grabbed Cloud around the throat. His fingers squeezed, but he rubbed at the side of Cloud's neck with his thumb and let go before Cloud started to struggle to breathe.

"I'm not asking -" Cloud started, gasping a little, not wanting to think about how good that made everything feel, that momentary loss of air, how it strengthened the sensations almost unbearably. He gave another vicious tug to Sephiroth's ponytail.

Sephiroth responded by tightening his fingers on Cloud's throat again, and rubbing his thigh against Cloud's cock at the same time. When he let go so Cloud could breathe, Cloud arched up and nearly came, right there, had to struggle to make himself not because oh, fuck no, he wasn't losing.

This was more like sparring than sex. Which gave Cloud an idea, because if there was one thing he was used to, it was fighting with people who were, a, Sephiroth, and b, bigger than he was. So he relaxed under Sephiroth's weight, let his eyes go wide and his muscles pliant and said, hesitantly, "Please…"

And then, in the half second where Sephiroth relaxed his guard, probably thinking he was going to hear what he wanted, Cloud shifted his weight and rolled, used his shoulder and got Sephiroth on his back, so _he_ was the one on top.

Cloud grinned fiercely down at him. "You always underestimate me," he said, aroused and excited in a way that felt like fighting, but the good part of fighting, the adrenaline without the fear. "Ha."

Sephiroth still had a hand around Cloud's neck. He started stroking the column of Cloud's throat, and he didn't look all that unhappy or annoyed or even surprised. "Yes, you're very clever, Strife."

Cloud had to let go of Sephiroth's ponytail when he flipped them, and he was so busy being pleased with himself for managing that, he missed Sephiroth's fingers sliding easily into his _own_ hair. The hand that was at Cloud's neck moved downwards, lazily, but instead of taking off Cloud's pants -

- Sephiroth took off his own. Which Cloud discovered, when Sephiroth used his grip on Cloud's hair to force him down, trapping him neatly by tangling one of his longer legs in one of Cloud's. There was no sign of his wing, which meant he must have retracted it as Cloud had flipped them, meaning he wasn't as surprised as Cloud had hoped he'd be by that little move.

Thoroughly disgruntled, Cloud glared up at him. "If you say _checkmate_, I'm gonna punch you in the dick."

Sephiroth couldn't look angelic if he tried, but he did _smug fallen angel_ pretty well. "I wouldn't dream of it, Cloud," he said, and tugged on Cloud's hair with one hand, the other going behind his head.

"Tch." Cloud hated to admit that this was really getting him going, the flipping around and the sparring, and yes, even the hair-pulling and the choking. Gods, why was he such a weirdo?

"Cloud," Sephiroth said, surprising him, sliding his hand down the side of his face and tipping his chin up with two fingers. "You don't have to."

"I know I don't _have_ to," Cloud muttered, uncomfortable with how hot he found Sephiroth tilting his face up like that. "I'm trying to decide if I want to."

"Hmm." Sephiroth reached down, and Cloud watched for a moment, dry-mouthed and speechless, while he took himself in hand and lazily stroked himself with those long fingers. "Take your time."

It had been a long time since Cloud had given anyone a blowjob, but he was pretty sure you weren't supposed to go at it like you were trying to win a fight. But that's what he did, and he was as aggressive as he'd ever been with anyone and yet it didn't feel weird, somehow. Maybe it was because he didn't know how to be any other way, with Sephiroth.

Or maybe he just liked how Sephiroth responded to having Cloud suck his cock, the way he arched beneath him, the sounds he made. His fingers wrapped around the back of Cloud's neck, tight but not choking, and Cloud liked that, too.

He also liked that Sephiroth didn't notice his own hand reaching down and unbuttoning his jeans, so that he could stroke himself while he sucked Sephiroth off. As much as he liked it when Sephiroth gasped and tugged on his hair in warning, as much as he liked the sounds Sephiroth made when Cloud refused to pull off, the way Sephiroth tensed and arched, the way his wing flared out suddenly when he came -

Cloud didn't know if he wanted to be the one losing control, didn't know if he could trust himself to fall apart beneath Sephiroth's hands.

Even if the thought of it is what finally got him off, silently, his face pressed against Sephiroth's stomach.


	12. The Movie in Your Eyelids

**Chapter Twelve: The Movie on your Eyelids**

Sephiroth thought about painting his now-finished gazebo, but in the end he decided to let it be and move on to other projects.

For one thing, it was the rainy season; showers and storms popped up at fairly random intervals and tended to last either a few hours or a few days. That made it difficult to do any painting, as even when it wasn't raining, the humidity made it feel like breathing through a sponge. For another, Rufus had sent over the encrypted files from Hollander's research, and Sephiroth found studying them to be a far more pressing concern.

If mental degeneration was indeed the reason behind his destructive behavior, he had to find a way to stop it from happening again. If he couldn't…..

Cloud would have to kill him. There was no way around that simple truth; Sephiroth refused to descend into madness and lose control over his actions and his mental faculties. The idea was abhorrent to him.

"It's funny you care more about that than, oh, all the people you hurt. Or killed," Cloud observed, because those were the sorts of observations Cloud liked to make when it came to him.

Sephiroth tried pointing out to Cloud that hurting and killing people was exactly the thing he was created to do, and that the aberration was the impulses behind his behavior, not the behavior itself.

"But you tried to _take over the world_," Cloud reminded him. "Normal people don't do that. Normal people don't even _think_ about it."

"Normal people weren't given a sword at the age of thirteen and told to bring a country to heel on behalf of what was, essentially, a corporate-backed army," Sephiroth said. "I don't know which body count was higher - the one from my time in Wutai, or the one from my attempts at godhood."

"The fact you can even say that with a straight face freaks me out," said Cloud.

"I say everything with a straight face," Sephiroth reminded him. "Would you rather I laugh about it? Isn't that what I did when I was crazy?"

"You were never really one for the evil laughter," Cloud said, after a moment of thought. "More like, an evil chuckle here and there."

"That does sound more like me," Sephiroth agreed. "No one's ever accused me of having much of a sense of humor."

"You do have one, though," Cloud said, surprising him. "You're actually kind of funny. When you're not being a dick. Or crazy."

"I'll put that in the file," Sephiroth muttered, going back to his stack of papers. The rain was hitting against the roof, against the glass door separating the kitchen from the small balcony. He'd been working at the kitchen table, as it had a larger surface to organize all the materials Rufus had sent over, as well as set up the computer.

Cloud used the computer to play chess. He couldn't win a game against _it_, either.

"Already noted," Cloud said, referring to his observation about Sephiroth's sense of humor. "I put it on your last weekly progress report."

"Oh? And what other progress have I made?"

Cloud, who was drinking one of his horrible energy drinks, raised both his eyebrows. "Said you'd gotten better at playing with others."

Sephiroth smirked at him, though he was more than a little surprised at Cloud's innuendo. Cloud did not tend to reference anything that happened between them in the bedroom when they weren't in it. "Did you."

Cloud tried to shrug nonchalantly, but Sephiroth could see a faint stain of red on his cheeks as he lifted his energy drink. "Yeah."

Sephiroth looked back down at his files with a slight smile, but didn't say anything. Cloud was gone the next time he looked up, which must have been quite some time as the light coming through the windows had darkened dramatically.

He stood up and stretched, looking down at the notes he'd made on the pad of paper. Most of Hollander's private files were useless as far as his research went, though the man did enjoy making the occasional snide, caustic remark at the expense of other scientists.

Mainly Hojo.

Still, all the witticisms in the world wouldn't help him figure this out. But it wasn't like he was having that much luck with pure, dry science, either.

"No luck?"

Sephiroth looked over at Cloud, who had reappeared with a box in his hands. It had a picture of Cosmo Canyon on the front, and it took Sephiroth a moment to realize what it was. He shook his head in response to the question, then said, "Is that a jigsaw puzzle?"

Cloud put the box on the table, then put his hands on his slim hips. He gave Sephiroth a challenging stare, chin tilted up in unnecessary defiance. "Yeah. So?"

Sephiroth's eyes rolled heavenward. "I was just asking."

"You're not helping me put it together," Cloud told him, bristling with belligerence. "I'm doing it myself."

Sephiroth stared at him. "I won't help you with your puzzle, Cloud."

Cloud scowled, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. "You won't be able to help yourself, probably. You're kind of like that."

Sephiroth started stacking his papers and organizing them in into neat piles. "I've got my own puzzle to work on."

"Mine has a better picture, though," Cloud said, and dumped the box out on the table. "I found this downstairs. The other one was less pieces, but it was of the ShinRa Tower."

"Before or after it blew up?"

"Before." Cloud gave him a very small smile. "Might've put it together, if it was after."

Sephiroth gave a low laugh, and watched as Cloud went still. He wasn't sure if it was the good kind of still, or the one where Cloud was thinking about encounters they'd had before, painful ones that ended in blood that Sephiroth didn't remember.

"That wasn't supposed to be an evil laugh," Sephiroth said, very quietly.

"It wasn't," Cloud said, just as quiet. He looked up, and they stared at each other for a moment. Sephiroth felt a warm curl of heat in his stomach, a pleasurable tension settling over him as he went to make dinner.

At one point he looked up and saw Cloud at the table, head bent, sliding pieces into neat little piles and then pulling them forward, trying to make them fit.

* * *  
Cloud came to his room that night, and things started off as awkward as they always did, with Cloud acting angry for being attracted to him and Sephiroth not having any clue how to tell him to calm down without infuriating him.

Saying _Cloud, calm down_ did not end well, he'd learned that a few nights ago. Cloud had stormed out, leaving him half-dressed and worked up with only his left hand for company.

(The next morning, Cloud had shown up when Sephiroth was in the shower, climbed in with him without invitation and kissed him, saying in an angry voice, _don't tell me to calm down, Sephiroth,_ as if that had happened ten minutes ago instead of ten hours.)

"You know," Sephiroth said, arms crossed over his chest, "I'm not _making_ you go to bed with me."

"I know that," Cloud snapped. He was leaning against the wall, and anyone else would make that pose look casual - but not Cloud. He seemed to be comprised entirely of angles and lines, all of them rigid and sharp without any give whatsoever. His resemblance to the spikes of his hair was remarkable.

Sephiroth resisted smirking at the thought. Cloud would likely interpret it as Sephiroth laughing at him, and storm out in a huff.

"Are you going to go through this mental torment every time, do you think?" Sephiroth tilted his head, considering the idea. "If so, maybe I should take the opportunity to go and have a shower."

Cloud's mouth twitched. "Very funny."

"I wasn't joking," Sephiroth informed him. "It takes a long time for me to wash my hair."

Cloud made a noise that almost sounded like a laugh, and pushed out of his lean to cross the room and join him. Before Sephiroth could explain that he was actually being very serious about that, Cloud was all over him; pushing him back towards the bed and tangling his fingers in Sephiroth's hair, mouth hot and demanding on Sephiroth's own.

For such a quiet, controlled man, Cloud was certainly a very aggressive lover. Genesis had been the same, and their rivalry outside of the bedroom had led to some very rough-and-tumble play inside of it. But Sephiroth was nothing if not observant, and Cloud's utter determination to make sure he got himself off before Sephiroth could do so had not gone unnoticed.

Sephiroth knew why, too. He'd been the same way with Angeal and Genesis at first, overwhelmed by all the attention and pleasure being focused solely on _him_. It had felt very much like a loss of control, and Sephiroth was fairly certain that was exactly how Cloud was looking at it. Given their complex history, it was understandable that _losing control_ was the last thing Cloud would want to do around him.

But that didn't mean he was going to let it keep happening. Angeal and Genesis certainly did not - Sephiroth had a vivid memory of Angeal tying him to the bed and restricting the use of his hands. It had been some time ago - even without his missing years - but Sephiroth was still somewhat surprised he'd allowed that.

_You trusted him, once. Maybe more than anyone._

Had his breakdown in Nibelheim been nothing more than a result of his genetics and the loss of the two people who'd ever mattered to him?

_If losing my mother made Hojo insane enough to turn his son into an experiment, would losing Angeal and Genesis make me burn down an entire town?_

"Hey."

Cloud's voice, low and a little rough, brought his attention back to the present. He was straddling Sephiroth, his eyes bright and his pupils dilated, a flush on his fair skin. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but he _was_ wearing jeans...and a belt.

"Something on your mind?" Cloud asked, and he didn't sound mad, just serious. "You're not into it or whatever, you can just tell me."

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at him. "You're sitting on my lap. You can't tell if I'm into it or not?"

Cloud made a face. He briefly resembled the angry-looking chocobo that graced the can of those energy drinks of his. Sephiroth kept that observation to himself for the moment.

"You're doing that thing, though. Where you don't blink. Usually means you're thinking about something." Cloud paused. "Or trying to kill me. Which is it?"

Sephiroth smiled at him. "It's no fun if I tell you, Cloud."

"Ha, ha." Cloud's eyes narrowed, but his eyes flashed and his hips moved against Sephiroth's own, almost involuntarily. That was an interesting reaction, and one Sephiroth would have to explore further.

At the moment, though….

"There is something on my mind," Sephiroth said, and reached out to undo Cloud's belt with one hand, the other pulling Cloud down by the back of his neck.

While he kissed him, he tucked the belt under the pillow next to him, then flipped them so that Cloud was on his back. Cloud didn't push him away, and Sephiroth slid one leg between Cloud's and pressed his thigh against Cloud's erection, before moving his mouth to Cloud's neck and biting gently at his ear.

While he did that, he grabbed Cloud's wrists and moved them above his head, biting a little harder to distract him. His other hand found the belt, and Sephiroth increased the pressure of his thigh, rubbing harder at Cloud's cock and enjoying, for a moment, the way Cloud bucked up under him, the sound he made that was half-growl, half-moan.

Then, he tied Cloud's wrists together with the belt, too fast for Cloud to realize what he was doing.

"Hey!" Cloud protested, predictably irritated, twisting beneath Sephiroth in a way that he might not have intended to be sexual but was still very, very arousing. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Tying your wrists together with your belt," Sephiroth said, his mouth still nuzzling at Cloud's neck. "So you can't get yourself off like you always do. Did you think I hadn't noticed?"

"No, I just didn't care," Cloud groused, giving him a thoroughly annoyed look. He tugged on the belt. "I could probably get out of this, you know."

"Go ahead and try, if you want," Sephiroth said, agreeably enough. He increased the pressure of his thigh again, smirking against Cloud's skin. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you enjoy it."

Cloud went still, obviously figuring out that if he tried struggling, Sephiroth would make sure he came from the friction generated by all the wriggling he'd have to do. "This is stupid."

"Hmm." Sephiroth nipped at Cloud's pulse-point before sitting up and giving him a pleased smirk. "It's what you want, though, isn't it?"

"You to tie my wrists up with a belt? Not really." Cloud wouldn't look at him.

"Would you prefer something else? There's a jump rope down by the treadmill."

"Are you - no, I do not want you to tie my hands with a jump rope, I don't want you to do it at all." Cloud was still staring, very intently, at the wall.

"Yes, you do."

"What -" Cloud's breath hitched as Sephiroth undid the top button of his jeans. "Why would you - think that - "

"Because then you can pretend you didn't want it," Sephiroth told him, kissing him on the mouth. He wasn't surprised when Cloud bit him, but he didn't mind. Especially not when Cloud moaned into his mouth a few seconds later, when Sephiroth's fingers wrapped tight around his cock.

"I'm beginning to think you don't trust me to know how to get you off, Cloud," Sephiroth said, watching him intently. He tightened his fingers, moved his hand exactly how he knew Cloud liked it. "I do, you know. I've watched you enough times by now to figure it out."

Cloud was still pulling against the belt holding his wrists, but there was something about the way that he was doing it that suggested Sephiroth had been right all along about Cloud wanting the restraint. "Maybe I just don't want you to."

"I don't believe you."

Cloud finally raised his eyes to meet Sephiroth's, his own wide and dazed. He looked like he was going to say something, but Sephiroth twisted his wrist and Cloud's back arched. Sephiroth smiled at him in pleasure. "I told you. I paid attention."

"That's not - oh," Cloud moaned, eyes fluttering closed and his head went back, exposing his throat.

Something hot and dark stirred at the sight, but Sephiroth tempered his urge to lean down and bite Cloud until he bled, to mark that smooth skin like his masamune had marked his chest. _Mine,_ he thought, and there was a strange echo like he'd thought that before, and just for a moment something trembled on the edge of his awareness - not a memory but a remembered sensation, and not necessarily a pleasant one. Like hunger, or pain.

Sephiroth's fingers stilled for a moment, eyes meeting Cloud's. Cloud's widened, and he jerked hard against the restraint around his wrists and this time, it seemed almost genuine. Sephiroth wondered if he would do it, if he would take the belt off if Cloud asked him to. He should, but he didn't want to.

_Don't,_ that dark part whispered, tantalized, laughed in his mind.

Cloud didn't ask him to take it off. Instead, he just went still and said, "Hey. _Hey_. Come back."

Sephiroth blinked, and whatever dark tide had risen inside of him receded back into the depths of his memory. He wondered, for the first time, if he had ever had Cloud like this before, restrained and beneath him, but with something other than desire motivating him. "We've never - I never, before -"

"No. You always tried to kill me, not...anything else." Cloud cleared his throat, his hot eyes meeting Sephiroth's. "Get me off. I want you to."

Things had taken a strange turn, but perhaps Sephiroth shouldn't be all that surprised. Nothing was easy with Cloud, ever. _You're so very well-named, Strife._ Sephiroth's hand moved again, but he reached up to undo the belt around Cloud's wrists with the other.

"No, you can - leave it," Cloud bit out, his hips pushing up rhythmically, in time to Sephiroth's stroking hand on his cock. "It's fine."

"So I was right," Sephiroth said, rubbing his thumb over the head of Cloud's cock.

Cloud's answer was a low gasp, but he did raise one leg and kick him in the back with his heel. "I said it was _fine_. Could you get on with it?"

Sephiroth did the thing with his thumb again, twisting his wrist and tightening his grip again - but he slowed down, drew it out and watched Cloud the whole time as he backed him off the edge, then sent him hurtling back towards it with brutal efficiency.

"Shall I make you ask for it, Cloud?"

"Shall I - bite your - dick off, Sephir-_oh_-"

Sephiroth laughed at that, and Cloud's eyes, which had been clenched tightly shut, opened at the sound. They looked startlingly young, almost innocent, and he looked at Sephiroth like he wasn't even sure where he _was_. That dark tide stirred again, but before it had a chance to crest, Cloud went tense and his back snapped into a hard arch, and he came in Sephiroth's hand.

Cloud turned his face away when he came, but that was all right. It was still very satisfying to watch, and it once again drove that darkness inside of him back into the shadows where it belonged.

Eventually, Cloud made a noise and stretched a little on the bed. The sight of him there, with his jeans unbuttoned and his hair a mess, wrists still tied above his head by the belt, was very satisfying. "And how was that, Cloud?" Sephiroth asked, as Cloud tried to catch his breath.

Cloud finally opened his eyes, and regarded Sephiroth solemnly for a moment...and then he yawned. "Was okay. Untie me."

Sephiroth's satisfied, rather smug smile vanished. "Not until you find a better adjective than _okay_."

Cloud gave him a fierce grin. "Aw. Did I hurt your feelings? You know I'm not good with words."

"Mmm. I'll have to find something else for you to do with your mouth, then," said Sephiroth, reaching up to undo the belt. Which, as it turned out, wasn't really necessary. Cloud's hands could have easily slipped free, if he hadn't been gripping at the leather.

Sephiroth opened his mouth to say something about that, then changed his mind and tossed the belt to the floor. He'd achieved his objective, there was no point in gloating about it.

Besides. Cloud _was_ much better using his mouth for things other than talking, which Sephiroth was more than happy to let him demonstrate.

Sephiroth was standing in a white room, staring at Angeal and Genesis, both of whom stood before him. They had round, black holes where eyes and a mouth should have been, and as one, they both lifted their arms and pointed at him accusingly.

"I tried to save you," Sephiroth whispered. Even without eyes, their regard felt like condemnation. "I tried."

He watched as their features melted into the darkness, leaving their faces nothing but gaping, black pits. Everything else about them looked exactly as Sephiroth remembered; Angeal with his heavy broadsword strapped to his back, Genesis in his leather coat, red as spilled blood.

There was a scream from behind him. Sephiroth turned and saw Cloud Strife standing there, eyes wide and betrayed, blood pouring from his mouth. Masamune was buried in his chest, directly in his heart.

Sephiroth's own arm was extended, his hand wrapped around the hilt. _No._  
There was a soft laugh from next to him. Sephiroth turned his head and saw himself standing there, the one he'd seen waving in the mirror. His _other_ smiled at him. "Go on," his own voice encouraged him. "Twist the blade. Gut him until there's nothing left."

Sephiroth looked back at Cloud, who was screaming again. He was doing it, he was twisting the hilt of his sword and pulling downward, eviscerating Cloud in one neat slice.

"He's just a failed experiment," said Hojo, standing at his side. He was making marks on a clipboard. "Not worth your time."

Sephiroth looked back in front of him. Cloud was still there, but instead of being impaled on a sword, he was encased in a tank. As Sephiroth watched, Cloud's eyes opened and he began to beat against the glass with his fists. He was saying something. A name, maybe. Not Sephiroth's.

There was a table between Sephiroth and the tank. On it was a body, cut open from sternum to groin. Hojo was standing in front of the table, laughing, pulling something out that looked horrifyingly like entrails.

The thing on the table - its legs were kicking, but all Sephiroth could see were boots.

Hojo looked over his shoulder. "I'm doing this for your own good, boy." He held up a scalpel, then turned and drew it across the neck of whatever the thing was on the table. The legs stopped kicking. Cloud started soundlessly screaming, beating his fists impotently against the tank.

Hojo finally stepped out of the way. He saw the thing on the table, and it took him a moment to realize who it was, recognizable only by the blood-soaked spikes of black hair.

The thing that was once Zack turned its head and lifted one arm, stripped of flesh down to the muscle, pointing at Sephiroth.

"Your fault."

"Zack-" Sephiroth took a step towards him, but his _other_ got there first - and promptly impaled his former friend and comrade through the neck with his sword. His other fixed him with a look from cold, dead eyes.

"Remember what it feels like to hate."

Sephiroth could hear Cloud, screaming in agony. The other version of himself lifted his sword, which was covered in blood, as flames leapt to life behind him.

"Remember what it feels like to _burn_."

Sephiroth woke up with a start, tangled in the sheets and the strands of his hair. His heart was racing unpleasantly fast, and he was covered in sweat.

Next to him, Cloud Strife lay sleeping, sprawled on his back. Sephiroth could see the scar on Cloud's chest, from where his blade pierced through skin. The urge to touch it was nearly overwhelming, but he restrained himself with effort. Unease prickled like needles over his skin, and he did not trust himself to do anything but sit there in the dark and try to breathe.

Cloud's eyes opened, glowing faintly. "You're staring at me. S'creepy," he said, on a yawn. "Stoppit."

Sephiroth closed his eyes, but he did not fall back to sleep. He lay there and listened to the sound of the rain hitting against the windows, to the sound of Cloud's deep, even breathing, until morning.

And as he lay there, he wondered if monsters dreamed.

* * *  
Two days later, Rufus sent along another set of encrypted files, more supplies, tofu, Cloud's horrible energy drinks, and a DVD with a note attached. The note was from Tseng, and it was addressed to him.

_Sephiroth,_

This security footage was recently found buried beneath several layers of complicated computer coding. Most of the footage has been lost, but someone went to great lengths to make sure this particular incident wasn't forgotten. We're currently at a loss as to who that might be.

The decision to make this footage available to you was not unanimous. However, if it were me, I would want to see it. This is the only extant copy, though of course I won't insult your intelligence and tell you that we destroyed the original. It is entirely up to you if you want to view this material, or simply destroy it.

I should warn you that it is incredibly disturbing. I, personally, never want to see it again

Tseng 

Sephiroth stared at the DVD in his hands, at the date written in plain, black marker on simple clear case. A date he couldn't remember, and a date Cloud couldn't forget.

"What's that?" Cloud asked, appearing next to him. He sounded, if not cheerful, as close to it as Sephiroth had ever heard. "Did Rufus make you a mixed tape? Should I be jealous?"

"It's security footage from one of Hojo's laboratories," Sephiroth said, fingers tightening briefly on the cheap plastic case. It would be so easy to destroy it, to break it in half without subjecting either himself or Cloud to its contents. But he wouldn't do that.

He made himself meet Cloud's wide blue eyes and say, without flinching, "It's from Nibelheim, Cloud."

Cloud's brow furrowed briefly, and he shook his head. The spikes of his hair bobbed gently as he did so. "I don't - what?" He looked at the DVD, then back at Sephiroth.

Sephiroth handed it to him. "I'm sure you'll recognize the date."

Cloud made a sound like a wounded animal and dropped the DVD on the floor. He shook his head. "No. What? Why is that - why does anyone _have_ that?" His features were suddenly distorted by rage, his bright eyes cold and deadly, and it occurred to Sephiroth that this was how he must have looked, Cloud, when they'd fought each other.

He knew, from Cloud's own retelling and from the facts he'd gleaned from the files, that he'd always underestimated Cloud Strife as an adversary. And he wondered how he'd done that, exactly, because the man standing in front of him was every bit as much as warrior as Sephiroth had ever seen. Cloud's face settled into a look of pure, ironclad determination - and he raised his boot, directly over the DVD case, intending to smash it to pieces.

"Cloud!" Sephiroth said, surprised into raising his voice. "Don't -"

"This is - I don't want to watch it," Cloud said, voice hard, sounding exactly like a man who'd fought and saved the world, who'd seen his friends die, who'd survived four years in Hojo's tanks. "I don't need to fucking watch this, Sephiroth. I was there. You were there. What's the fucking point?"

"Because I don't remember it," Sephiroth said, hands raised. "I don't remember it, Cloud, and I'm terrified that I'm going to do it again." The admission cost him more than Cloud would ever know - Sephiroth had never in his life admitted to being terrified of anything.

Cloud's eyes narrowed into slits. "I won't let you. _I will kill you first._ Do you hear me? I don't care if we're sleeping together. I'll still kill you."

"I know." Sephiroth took a deep breath. "I know you will. But I should watch it. I _need_ to. That wasn't some remnant, it wasn't a clone - it was _me_. I have to know what I have it in me to become, Cloud."

Cloud glared at him, then leaned down and picked up the DVD. "Then let's fucking get it over with," he said, and headed towards the den.

Sephiroth followed him. It felt like a funeral march, like going off to war and knowing you won't come back.


	13. Protect Me From What I Want

**Chapter 13: Protect Me from What I Want**

Cloud sat on the couch, back ramrod straight, hands clenched into fists as Sephiroth hit _play_ on the DVD menu.

_Maybe it won't work,_ he thought wildly, trying to control his breathing and not look like he was freaking the fuck out.

For a minute, he thought he'd gotten his wish and his heart soared in hope….only to crash and break into a million pieces when the screen flickered to life.

Cloud was so caught up in his own panic that he didn't notice the concerned look Sephiroth was giving him.

"Cloud," he said, in that low voice which Cloud had _just started_ to find more attractive than terrifying, "you're not breathing."

Cloud expelled a breath when he realized that was true. He glanced over at Sephiroth - they were sitting several feet away from each other, an entire person-space between them - and scowled. "You wanted to watch this," he bit out. "So, watch."

The surveillance footage was grainy and blurry, but he could just make out the interior of the reactor - and the long-haired figure on the platform, standing in front of a tank. Just the sight of it was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach, and Cloud had to close his eyes for a moment to regain his equilibrium.

When he opened them, it was to see a familiar figure striding into view. Spiky black hair, impossibly large broadsword, a purposeful stride without a hint of fear.

Zack.

Cloud heard himself make the softest of sounds, a pained noise that almost resembled a whimper. There was no audio on the footage, and while he should have been glad about that given how this was all going to end, Cloud couldn't help wishing he could hear Zack's voice one more time - somewhere other than his head.

Sephiroth was facing away from Zack, who was obviously trying to get his attention. When it became apparent that talking wasn't enough, Zack drew the Buster sword (_the hilt smeared with blood, rain and tears burning his eyes as the light faded from Zack's, the metal cold in his hands_) and laid the flat of the blade over Sephiroth's shoulder.

Sephiroth moved with his usual inhuman grace, turning with masamune raised and knocking Zack backwards. Sephiroth went after him with purposeful intent, and Cloud's heart was lodged in his throat as he watched the two of them and thought, wildly, _win this time, Zack. Stop him so I don't have to. Please._

But Zack didn't win, and Sephiroth delivered a blow that knocked Zack's sword out of his hand, and sent Zack flying backwards off-screen. Cloud could see Sephiroth, the one sitting next to him on the couch, close his eyes briefly. On-screen, Sephiroth stood staring for a moment, presumably at Zack lying prone on the staircase, and then turned his back and went back up the walkway back towards the tank.

Other than that momentary flicker of his eyes, Sephiroth did not so much as move or make a single sound. Cloud's stomach was twisted up into knots because he knew what came next, and he fought the childish urge to bury his face in his hands like it was a horror movie and he could watch it through his fingers.

It was surreal to see himself, dressed in that long-forgotten ShinRa trooper's uniform, features hidden beneath the bulky helmet. Unlike Zack, his stride was not purposeful and he was definitely afraid. Cloud watched his younger self hoist the too-large sword, and he remembered sweat stinging his eyes and how his heart sounded, a war drum beating out a dreadful tattoo as he ran.

And then he saw himself stab Sephiroth through the back, and twist the blade once for good measure.

Sephiroth's head turned on the film, and while the camera wasn't sharp enough to pick up subtleties of expressions, Cloud remembered that look Sephiroth had given him. Surprised, infuriated, and so _hateful_.

Cloud watched himself pull the blade free, as Sephiroth slumped to the floor in front of the tank.

Cloud knew what happened next, how he'd gone running to Tifa's side and discarded his helmet, desperate to find out if she and Zack were all right. On-screen, he watched Sephiroth struggle to his feet, turning again towards the tank and using the hilt of his sword to break it.

Then Sephiroth raised his blade, and, in a move that was almost too fast for the camera to capture, decapitated the creature inside the tank. The camera captured Sephiroth's slow progress as he made his way, limping and obviously injured, out of the chamber. He held the severed head of the creature he believed to be his mother in one hand, his wicked blade raised in defiance in the other.

For a moment there was nothing on-screen but the broken tank and the gruesome sight of Jenova's remains. A few seconds later, a blur went hurtling through the chamber to crash near the bottom of the destroyed tank. A blur with spiky hair. Cloud.

The blur was followed by Sephiroth, who approached Cloud with slow, predatory steps - and then speared him through the chest with his sword.

On the sofa, Cloud jumped. Part of him could feel it, the slice of the blade through his skin, the hot pain that followed. On-screen, Sephiroth raised the blade and Cloud watched himself struggling before finding some hidden well of inner strength to get back on his feet. He used his weight to throw Sephiroth off of him, sending Sephiroth careening towards the back wall of the chamber - still clutching that ghastly head, masamune's hilt still held tight in his hand.

There was a bright flash of electric light as Sephiroth was electrocuted from the impact with the panel - and then he fell out of the camera's view, straight down into the reactor's core.

On-screen, Cloud stood up and stumbled out of the room, obviously injured, grabbing at the blood pouring from his chest.

_How did I live through that? How?_

As if in answer to Cloud's silent question, the footage switched to another camera, which showed Cloud and Zack both lying on the staircase, unmoving. This footage had a date and time stamped on it, suggesting they'd been lying there for a few hours.

Suddenly, ShinRa troopers appeared on-screen, quickly and efficiently moving Zack and Cloud both onto gurneys. They stepped back as another figure came into view. A figure in a white lab coat.

_That's how you survived. Hojo. He saved you so you could endure the torments of hell for killing his son._

Cloud's stomach heaved at the sight of Hojo. The room was suddenly too hot, his vision wavering and his ears buzzing unpleasantly. Impossibly, he thought he tasted the acidic, sharp tang of mako in his mouth and that was it, Cloud stood up and stumbled towards the sliding glass doors that lead to the porch. He barely made it outside before he fell on his knees and became suddenly, violently ill.

It was raining, which he didn't notice until his breathing had calmed down a bit. It was still too humid to be anything remotely close to _cool_, but the fresh air and the feel of the rain on his skin brought him back to reality.

_All of that is over, and it's been over for a long time. You survived. And it wasn't Hojo that saved you, it was Zack. So get off your knees and go back inside, don't turn his sacrifice into a disgrace. _

Cloud stood up, shakily, running a hand through his damp hair. He was absurdly grateful that Sephiroth had left him alone to have his moment of weakness in peace, but he still felt annoyed at himself for being so affected by the sight of _Hojo_, of all people.

Cloud took a few more deep breaths, then turned and went back inside. He took his boots off, as they were covered in mud and he was vaguely aware that Rufus would probably charge him for cleaning the hardwood floors if he tracked that inside.

Sephiroth was still sitting on the couch, staring at the blue screen on the television. He didn't look like he'd moved at all.

"Sephiroth?"

Sephiroth turned to look at him. There was no expression on his face, no hint of emotion in his voice as he spoke. "Yes, Cloud?"

It was disturbing, because the cold eyes and the blank look, and that monotone voice...it reminded Cloud too much of the monster instead of the man, and he took an instinctive step backwards, reaching for a sword that wasn't there.

Sephiroth noticed, of course he did. If possible, his face shut down even more. He turned back towards the DVD player, as if Cloud weren't even there. But Cloud knew him better, now, and he could see Sephiroth's fingers twitch slightly on his left hand. And even though his posture was always impeccable, there was a fine line of tension in his shoulders. As Cloud stared hard as his profile, he saw Sephiroth slowly lower his lashes and open them again.

_Blinking. Breathing. These are good signs._ Cloud let out an audible breath and moved towards him. "I'm not going to be afraid of you."

Sephiroth cut his eyes up at him. He looked unfriendly, unapproachable, but not like a monster. He looked like a man who'd just watched himself go crazy, be electrocuted, and fall to his death on camera.

"You should have disarmed me."

Cloud blinked. "Huh?"

"When you initially brought me down. You shouldn't have left me there without disarming me, first."

"Wait." Cloud held up his hand, which was shaking slightly, but he ignored that. "Seriously, _what_?"

"You left me alive, so you should have disarmed me. Or shot me in the head. You did have a gun, didn't you?"

Cloud's mouth wouldn't work right for a few seconds. "This is how we're dealing with this, really?"

"Yes," Sephiroth said, still so calm and unflappable, like he wasn't talking to the man he'd just watch kill him. "Because next time, Cloud, you need to disarm me. Or make sure I'm dead."

"Or," Cloud said, almost wildly, "Let's not have a next time."

Sephiroth gave that little, quiet laugh of his. "I'm starting to think this is all we'll ever do, Cloud."

Cloud crossed his arms and glared. "Yeah, well, count me out."

Sephiroth looked away from him. "I should have seen you. In the reflection of the glass. I should have seen you, and I'm assuming you made a racket running up that walkway in your boots, and yet I just stood there and let you stab me."

"Hey," Cloud protested, but really, all of those things were true. "Yeah, you probably should have."

Sephiroth reached up and rubbed at the bridge between his nose with his fingers. The humanness of the gesture made Cloud take another step towards him.

"How did I survive that?" Sephiroth asked, picking up the remote. Before Cloud could stop him, he backed up the footage so he could watch himself be flung into an electric panel again. In fact, he paused it and leaned forward to study the image of himself sparking with deadly electricity, right before he plummeted to his death.

"Could we just - not do this?" Cloud asked, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. He was wet, and the air conditioning was on full-blast. Watching himself impaled on a sword was not helping get rid of the goosebumps.

Watching this once was bad enough. Fuck, _living it once_ was bad enough - did he really have to watch the slow-motion version, too?

"I have to," Sephiroth said, and the sudden intensity in his voice startled Cloud. "_I have to_." He backed the footage up again, this time watching himself decapitate Jenova. "Why did I do that?"

"Because you were crazy," Cloud said, flatly. He went over and forcibly ejected the DVD, pulling it out with the intent of snapping it in half. Sephiroth was there in a flash, long fingers wrapping tight around Cloud's wrist.

"Cloud, give me that back."

"No." Cloud shifted, eluding Sephiroth's attempts to grab the DVD from him. "I told you. We're not doing this anymore."

"I'm trying to find out what happened to me," Sephiroth hissed. He was trying to grab the disc out of Cloud's hand, but Cloud evaded him again and tried ducking away.

"I told you. You went crazy. After you spent too much time alone, thinking about shit that was over and done with." Cloud threw his elbow out, catching Sephiroth in the stomach to keep himself from being restrained. "So maybe you should stop and not do it again."

Sephiroth actually stopped trying to overpower him and grab the DVD, just to give him a mildly incredulous look. "You can't mean that I should just ignore how I _decapitated the alien I believed was my mother?_"

Cloud held the DVD up. His hand was shaking, and his eyes felt like they were burning in his skull. "This isn't going to change. There's nothing you can do to make this not happen. Okay?"

"Yes, I'm aware I can't change the past," Sephiroth said, biting each word in a way that let Cloud know he was annoyed, which was again very heartening as he could deal with Sephiroth when he was cranky. Just not crazy. "But how do I make sure I don't do it _again_?"

The irony was not lost on Cloud that he was the absolute _last_ person on Gaia who should ever tell someone to _get over it and move on_. "You just. I dunno. _Don't._"

Sephiroth let him go, moving away in a clear desire to get some space. "There has to be something more than my existential angst at work here, Cloud. Why did I leave Zack lying on the floor without bothering to kill him, yet apparently thought _you_ were enough of a threat to go back into that chamber and finish you off? You, a trooper who should have been _of absolutely no threat to me_, why did I spend valuable time going back in that chamber to kill you?"

Cloud shrugged. "You always underestimate me. I told you that, already." He gave a slow shake of his head. "That's probably why you did it, though. You were mad some _trooper_ managed to bring you down. It pissed you off."

"I didn't mean that as an insult, Cloud. I simply meant that it doesn't make sense for me to have let Zack live and try so hard to kill _you_, I barely knew your name -"

"That's _why_," Cloud said, very gently. "Don't you get it? You didn't want to kill Zack. Some part of you that remembered he was your friend. But I was nothing to you, and you were angry at me for getting in your way."

"It doesn't matter," Sephiroth insisted. "I should never have gone back in there after you, it was irrational and showed a complete lack of military training and strategy. You don't give up checkmating the king to go back and take out a single pawn."

Cloud stared up at the ceiling and counted to twelve. "You do if you're pissed off at the pawn for fucking up your plan. Look, Sephiroth, here's the only proof you need that you're human. Humans overreact and let their emotions rule their actions. If they didn't, I wouldn't have picked up Zack's sword and went running after you in the first place."

"Then why aren't you trying to kill me, now, Cloud?" Sephiroth tilted his head. "The sight of what I did was enough to make you physically ill, why aren't you coming at me with that sword of yours and putting an end to this?"

"One, because it never seems to actually _end_ when I do that," Cloud muttered, raking a hand through his hair, "and two, that wasn't...it was Hojo that made me sick, not you."

Sephiroth made a disbelieving noise. "You looked afraid of me, when you came back inside."

"Because you looked at me like you weren't there," said Cloud. He tapped the side of his head meaningfully. "Like no one was home."

"Ah." Sephiroth's slitted eyes shifted slightly, enough so that Cloud could tell he was looking at the DVD again. "I don't want to become what I saw on that video, Cloud. It was horrifying, to watch myself...so out of control like that."

"Yeah, believe me, it wasn't that fun for me, either," Cloud reminded him. He took a breath, then stepped closer, invading Sephiroth's space. "Hey. Look. You can do whatever you want with this, I'm not watching it _ever again_, but...it's not for me to tell you what to do with it." He handed the DVD over, and Sephiroth took it from him with a confused look. "I think you should destroy it. I think that thinking too much about _who_ and _what_ and _why_ is what drove you crazy in the first place," he said, simply.

"But that's not my choice, I guess. I could break this in two and you'd just ask Tseng for another copy, I know they didn't give you the only one, they're _Turks_." Cloud handed over the DVD. "I think you should get rid of it. But I also think I'm the last person who should tell anyone to let go of the past. Not like I'm that great at it, either."

That was an understatement.

Sephiroth studied him for a few moments in silence, then nodded. "I will think about what you said."

Cloud was emotionally exhausted enough for one afternoon, so he decided that was good enough for now. He really needed a shower, and there was a horrible, unpleasant taste in his mouth from being sick earlier. "Okay."

He was on his way upstairs when Sephiroth said, "For what it's worth, Cloud, it was very impressive, you throwing me with my own sword like that. "

Cloud didn't say anything, but as he headed up the stairs, he felt a flash of pride in his younger self, at the ingenuity and bravery he'd shown in the moment when it mattered most. No mako-enhanced SOLDIER, just Cloud Strife from Nibelheim.

It was the first time he'd ever felt that way about what he'd done that day in the reactor. Maybe, if there was anything to be gained from watching the surveillance footage, it was that.

* * *  
Cloud showered, brushed his teeth three times in a row, and drank a few Black Chocobo's before going outside with his phone to call Tseng.

"Thanks for sending over that DVD," Cloud said, by way of greeting.

"The president believes it was for the best," Tseng answered, way too smoothly.

Cloud narrowed his eyes. "But you didn't."

"I chose to err more on the side of caution," Tseng said. "And I don't see the point in giving anyone ideas. But I'm sure you know I support Rufus's decisions in any and all such matters."

Cloud barely stopped himself from making a derisive noise and said, "I want you to know. I don't think he's lying. I think he doesn't remember."

"I assumed so."

Cloud made a face, because he expected that to be more of a big deal than it was to admit, but he would die before letting Tseng know that. "You did, huh."

"If you didn't, you would have killed him by now."

That made him feel better, until he remembered Tseng was a Turk. _Kill first, so you don't have to do it later_ was kind of their motto. "Yeah?"

"Yes. Is there anything else, Strife?"

"Nope. Just wanted to pass along this information you already knew." Cloud had a sudden, horrifying thought. "Wait, Tseng?"

"Yes?"

"So this habit of ShinRa's, with having surveillance cameras everywhere….?" Cloud's face was flaming red, but he tried to keep his voice devoid of any hint of embarrassment. Luckily, he was pretty good at sounding somewhere between sad and indifferent at will. "That still a thing you do?"

"Of course. There are cameras in our new facility, I'm surprised you haven't seen them."

Sometimes, Cloud really hated Tseng. "_Just_ in the new facility?"

"None of the cameras in the old building are still working, except there was one in Sephiroth's cell - would you like to see the footage? I can sum it up for you very easily, he mostly paced, stared off into space, played with his hair or slept."

_Played with his hair?_ Cloud had a vivid memory of pulling at Sephiroth's hair last night, when Sephiroth had his mouth -

Cloud's face went even redder. "You don't have cameras here, do you, Tseng? Tell me you don't, or I'm going to track mud all over the floors."

"That's a fairly innocuous threat," Tseng responded, voice as polite as ever. "And there are two external cameras, one by the garage and the other out back by the porch. Which, as they're both in plain sight, should be fairly easy for you to investigate. There's also one interior camera by the front door, but that one is disabled, which again, should be rather obvious. I was under the impression you had some skill with electronics."

Cloud barely avoided snapping something in response to that, and instead he said, "You could send over some shinai, with the next supply order."

"Shinai?"

"They're for kendo, Tseng."

"Yes, thank you, I'm aware of the sport. I'm simply...surprised that you would want to engage in it, with Sephiroth of all people."

_Oh, that's not the weirdest thing I'm engaging in with Sephiroth, Tseng, believe me._

"I didn't ask you to send over masamune, did I?" Cloud paused. "Do you still have that? Rufus isn't planning to put it up over his desk, is he? And don't tell me he wouldn't because he _would_, Tseng."

Tseng made a noise that was supposed to be a cough, but Cloud knew very well it was hiding a laugh. "The president has placed Sephiroth's sword in a secure location, as is proper procedure given the weapon used to murder his father."

"That's why I thought he'd put it over his desk," said Cloud.

Tseng didn't try and cover up his laugh, this time. "You should consider applying to the Department of Administrative Research, Cloud. You've more than proven you have the skills for it."

"Is mocking Rufus one of them, or…?"

"Of course. Why do you think Reno is the second-in-command?"

Before Cloud could wrap his brain around Tseng telling a _joke_, he said, "I'll see to it that the shinai are sent over. Protective gear, as well?"

Cloud laughed outright at that. "Tseng."

"Just the shinai, then." Tseng's voice sounded amused when he said, "Oh, and tell Sephiroth that Rufus is very pleased with the gazebo."

Cloud didn't bother to answer that, but it wasn't until after he hung up the phone that he realized Tseng had only mentioned _one_ of the cameras was disabled - and that it wasn't the one in the back of the house. He remembered he and Sephiroth's almost-kiss in the gazebo and pressed his palms to his face, momentarily horrified at the thought of that being videotaped for posterity.

He went down to the foyer and saw that yes, there was a camera that he really should have noticed before now, and a quick check showed it was indeed disconnected. Cloud stood up on a chair and aimed a roundhouse kick at it, shattering the lens with the heel of his (now mud-free) boot.

A dramatic gesture now and then never hurt anybody, right?

He left the exterior camera by the garage as-is, but when he went to investigate the camera around back, he saw that it was disconnected. Not only that, but the wires had been neatly sliced instead of unplugged. Cloud fingered the wires, remembering Sephiroth systematically going through and slicing all the boxes for the gazebo kit open...with a box-cutter.

Cloud was actually _grateful_ for Sephiroth's skill with a blade, for once. What a nice change.

Cloud was _not_ feeling grateful three days later, when he was lying in bed at two thirty-three in the morning, alone and frustrated with no idea what to do about it.

The reason for his frustration was Sephiroth - because apparently it would _never be anything else_. Cloud stared up at his ceiling, the covers kicked off the bed in a fit of temper, and wondered if he was just cursed. Maybe it was his last name. What sort of luck did that bring you, having a last name that was synonymous with _conflict_?

_I should change it. I don't need to be happy all the time, but it'd be nice if everything didn't have to be such a fucking battle. Cloud Contentment, maybe. Cloud Temperance. That doesn't sound too bad._

It was too late to be awake, given he'd gone to bed a little after eleven that night. And it wasn't because Sephiroth had locked himself away in the den and was rewatching the footage from Nibelheim over and over again, because he wasn't. No, he'd actually watched it enough to "make necessary notations about the events" and then, he'd very calmly handed the DVD over to Cloud.

(Sephiroth could have made a copy. Or he could just ask Tseng to send another one, and hide it in a box of tofu or something. But Cloud decided to do what he did best, and ignore either possibility entirely.)

It was also fair to say that part of his frustration at the moment stemmed from the fact he'd...gotten used to certain things, certain _activities_, and he was experiencing a bit of a lull in said activities as of late.

All of that was basically just a more-complicated way of saying he missed getting laid.

Sephiroth hadn't turned crazy from watching the footage, but he had become...quiet. Aloof, and guarded around Cloud in that way he'd been at first, when Cloud couldn't stand to look at him. He didn't hound Cloud about his poor recycling habits or give him detailed lectures on the nutritional merits (or lack thereof) of his beverage choices, he didn't even put pieces of Cloud's jigsaw puzzle together and then pretend he hadn't.

Cloud would even go so far as to say he missed playing chess with Sephiroth. Though he did appreciate that the computer, while it still managed to beat him in every game, didn't give him a rundown of his poor performance and point out all the places where he could have won. It just asked him if he wanted to _play again?_ or _save_.

Cloud had thought maybe things would return to normal (that he and Sephiroth had a version of _normal_ was vaguely terrifying) after a few days, but no. Cloud had tried, the past two days, to try and draw him out; but Cloud _himself_ tended to be moody and withdrawn, so his attempts simply ended with Sephiroth giving him a cool stare a polite _no thank you_, and left Cloud feeling awkward and annoyed.

He tried to tell himself this was for the best, because what in the world was he doing, anyway? Especially because he knew Tseng had already told Rufus that Cloud didn't believe Sephiroth was lying about losing his memory. Ostensibly Cloud was supposed to stick around in case Sephiroth went crazy again and needed someone to kill him, but for how long?

Who decided when Sephiroth didn't need Cloud trailing after him like some ominous, moody assassin? Cloud? Sephiroth? Rufus? This situation couldn't endure indefinitely, there had to be some end to it. There _had_ to be.

But _then_ what would happen? Sephiroth would be free to, what, serve as the new figurehead for ShinRa's aggressive recycling program? Cloud liked his delivery job, it gave him a way to make money while indulging his wanderlust, and he didn't want to give that up. Would he and Sephiroth simply part ways, trusting that the gossamer-thin strands of their tentative truce - and Sephiroth's sanity - would remain unbroken, untested?

And if not, if he actually….if _they_ actually...what the fuck was Cloud supposed to tell his friends?

When it all became too much for even Cloud to ignore, he gave up and got out of bed, padding through the darkened hallway towards the kitchen. Maybe the computer would be too sleepy to beat him at chess, or he could work on the jigsaw puzzle. That should be mind-numbing enough to clear his head for a little while, right?

Cloud's enhanced senses picked up a steady _thump thump_ coming from the den. Curious, he went downstairs to investigate -and there he found Sephiroth, running on the treadmill with his eyes fixed straight ahead, mouth set in a grim line. He didn't even look at Cloud when he spoke. "Is there a problem, Cloud?"

"Yeah." Cloud nodded. "There is."

Sephiroth's eyes flickered towards him, then away. "And that would be?"

"You tell me."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Cloud," Sephiroth intoned, sounding a bit like a robot. "As I have no idea what you're referring to."

"We're talking about why you're pretending I don't exist." Cloud gave a rueful shake of his head. "You're timing is so fucking lousy, seriously."

Sephiroth turned off the treadmill, stepping gracefully off of it and wiping the sweat from his face with a towel. He took a bottle of water and downed it thirstily. Cloud went over and looked at the mile counter on the treadmill. His eyebrows raised. "How long have you been on this thing, since Thursday?"

"Is my use of the treadmill the problem, Cloud?"

Oh, for fuck's sake. "Yeah, kinda," Cloud said, arms crossed. "You're not the only one who needs to expend some energy, here."

"I thought you didn't like running," Sephiroth said. "And I had no idea you'd want to do so at this hour of the morning."

"Would you stop it? You know what I mean." Cloud gave him a sharp glare. "You're avoiding me."

"And yet, here we are." Sephiroth indicated the two of them with a wave of his hand.

Cloud decided that Sephiroth's true villanry was his ability to be both overly dramatic and overly literal at the same time. "You've been avoiding me since we watched that video footage."

"Yes, well, I'm aware my reputation as an emotionless killer might be at risk by admitting this, but it was rather upsetting to watch." Sephiroth held up a hand. "And yes, I understand why that is likely hypocritical of me and infuriates you, so if you would spare me the lecture, it would be appreciated."

"Nope. Not sparing you the lecture. Payback's a bitch." Cloud didn't smile, but Sephiroth should know him well enough by now to hear the thread of amusement in that, no matter how thin that thread may be.

Sephiroth didn't look amused, but he did look slightly aggravated. That was a start. "I'm afraid I don't understand you."

"Yeah, get in line. I don't understand me half the time, either." Cloud reached out and took the water bottle from Sephiroth's hand, waving it and saying threateningly, "I'm gonna throw this in the regular trash can."

Sephiroth's eyes went heavenward for a moment. "The torment I am destined to suffer at your hands, it is indeed never-ending."

That surprised a genuine bark of laughter out of Cloud. "Yeah, well. I try."

Sephiroth didn't crack a smile, but some of the coolness faded from his expression. "I have a lot on my mind, Cloud. And I'm aware I'm not...agreeable company, when I'm in this particular mood, so I'm simply sparing you the experience and keeping to myself."

Cloud gave him an incredulous stare. "Thanks, but if I survived you being _megalomaniacal and evil_, I think I can handle _disagreeable_." Cloud reached out and grabbed Sephiroth's shirt, tugging him forward. "Is it because I killed you?"

"Is _what_ because you killed me?"

_Why you don't want me_. Cloud would not say that. He would _not_. "Why I'm sleeping alone." He would, however, hint vaguely and glare.

"I already knew that." Sephiroth looked down at Cloud's fingers, twisted in his shirt. "You've mentioned it, once or twice."

Cloud leaned in and bit Sephiroth's shoulder, hard, through the fabric of his shirt. "So get the fuck over it, already. I did."

Cloud felt Sephiroth grab _his_ hair, fingers tangling in the unruly spikes as Sephiroth pulled him away from his shoulder. He leaned down and bit _Cloud_ on the neck, growling, "watching you kill me didn't make me angry, Cloud. It made me want to fuck you."

….oh.

Cloud pushed him away just a little, so he could see his face. "Hard to do that from a treadmill."

"I might hurt you, Cloud," Sephiroth said, a look of sinister promise gleaming in his eyes, and Cloud finally figured out what it was Sephiroth was saying.

"You _want_ to hurt me," Cloud corrected him. "Because you lost. Right? Just admit it."

Sephiroth's stare didn't waver. "Yes."

Cloud realized that while blurring the lines between _fighting_ and _fucking_ had been, for him at least, a part of this since the beginning….the same was not necessarily true for Sephiroth. Or else, he hadn't realized it quite yet.

A dark thrill of fear went down Cloud's spine. He smiled, a fierce sort of grin that felt a little like a snarl. "Maybe I want to hurt you, too."

Sephiroth's eyes flashed, and gave Cloud a smirk that made Cloud instantly hard, and also made him want to smack it off.

What the hell. Why not.

Sephiroth caught his wrist before Cloud's hand made contact. He raised an eyebrow, looking even _more_ infuriating than before. "That was as obvious as your chess moves."

Cloud briefly considered kicking him somewhere painful, then remembered why that would be an inconvenience and decided just to bite him instead. He pulled Sephiroth's hair for good measure, all of that restless energy coalescing inside of him and surging forth with sudden violence. "If you want it, you'll have to fucking _make me_."

Sephiroth smiled at him. "My pleasure," he said, and gave Cloud a sweeping, elegant bow.

Before Cloud could say something mocking in response to that dramatic gesture, Sephiroth tried to tackle him to the floor.

He'd have to remember to mention it later.

By the time they got around to the part where Sephiroth actually _did_ fuck him, Cloud was so far gone he could barely remember his own _name_.

Sephiroth had to work to get him on his back, as Cloud hadn't made it easy in the slightest. The overturned furniture and broken knick-knacks that formed a destructive trail from the den to Cloud's bedroom attested to that. Cloud wanted a fight, and he'd fucking gotten one.

Which was exactly how it had to be, if someone was going to fuck him. Cloud liked it, and he definitely wanted it, but it meant flipping that switch in his brain that would let him give up control and actually enjoy it...and that wasn't easy to do. He needed someone to make him take it, to _want_ to make him take it, and there weren't many people around that were willing - or able - to do that.

The few times he'd tried had been mildly unsatisfying at best; Cloud wasn't gifted with words and couldn't articulate what he wanted, meaning the encounter involved a bit too much playacting to be genuine.

There was no playacting here, though. Cloud hadn't held back at all, because he never did when Sephiroth was his opponent. And since they weren't trying to kill each other, Cloud was fully able to enjoy how _thrilling_ it was, how liberating, to go up against someone of Sephiroth's physical skill.

It made him wish, just for a moment, that he _had_ told Tseng to send Sephiroth's masamune instead of the kendo shinai. Too soon for that, maybe. But someday.

When Sephiroth finally _did_ fuck him, it was exactly as overwhelming as Cloud wanted it to be. And as worked up as he was, it took barely two strokes of Sephiroth's sinfully talented fingers on his cock before he came hard underneath him. Cloud's palms had been pressed hard against the wall behind him, so he could meet Sephiroth's thrusts with equal ferocity - when the pleasure finally broke and dragged him under, Cloud's back snapped into a hard arch and he held it there, arms trembling, until he finally let himself fall.

With the edge taken off, he could enjoy the way Sephiroth looked while he fucked him. He was as striking as ever, all bright slitted eyes and sharp cheekbones, his skin flushed and his hair a tangled _mess_ going every which way - but there was something else, something different than drew Cloud's wide-eyed attention and didn't let go.

It was the way Sephiroth was staring at him; that same consuming, focused intensity Cloud remembered from high on a ruined tower in a storm-torn sky. Because even without the malevolence, the _hatefulness_, twisting his beautiful features into something cold and vaguely repellant, Cloud was reminded that while Sephiroth was not the child of some vengeful alien, he was not entirely human, either. For the first time, Cloud saw that _other_-ness that pulsed just beneath the surface of his skin, running alongside the blood in his veins.

It wasn't terrifying, it didn't make him angry or want to drown himself in a sea of old sorrows. It was fascinating, attractive, thrilling - all the things Sephiroth himself was, because that _otherness_, whether it was from Jenova's cells or Hojo's incessant meddling with his son's genetics, was a part of him. It _was_ him.

Cloud watched in rapt fascination as Sephiroth's eyes went out of focus, lashes fluttering shut for a moment as his thrusts became erratic, his pace faster, hurried.

Cloud took a moment to appreciate that, and then raised his right hand and smacked Sephiroth, hard, on the sight of his flushed, beautiful face. The sight of his handprint briefly staining Sephiroth's fair skin was intensely satisfying.

Sephiroth responded by grabbing Cloud's wrists, slamming them down and all but collapsing on top of him - and then biting his shoulder hard enough to break the skin when he came, which he did with a low, choked moan and a shudder that ran through his body - and his wing, which manifested and snapped to its full extension, knocking the bedside lamp over onto the floor.

"Didn't see that coming, did you," Cloud managed, when he had his breath back. "Told you not to underestimate me."

Sephiroth lifted his head and blinked lazily at him, eyes catlike and sly, mouth slightly upturned at the corner. "If you say _checkmate_, I'll punch you in the dick," he said, parroting Cloud's own words back at him.

Cloud gaped at him for a few seconds, then yanked one of his wrists free so he could reach out and pluck one of Sephiroth's feathers.

Sephiroth hit him in the side of the head with his wing, then folded it behind his back in a way Cloud would _swear_ was huffily, even if he couldn't explain why. "I know I have extraordinary endurance, Strife, but even _I_ need a minute or two after that."

Cloud ignored that and drew his fingers through Sephiroth's feathers. "Did you do that on purpose?"

"Ah. No, it sometimes reacts...on instinct. Situationally, according to certain stimuli."

"I...have no idea what that means."

Sephiroth rolled his eyes. "It means it's a reflex, Cloud. Any strong sensation, mentally or physically, triggers a _fight or flight_ reaction, and therefore…." Sephiroth flared his wing.

Okay, maybe he _hadn't_ missed Sephiroth's lectures. "So which was it?" he asked, yawning. He felt good. Relaxed, even. Or what he assumed _relaxed_ felt like, to people who were lucky enough to feel that way.

"Since it was you, probably both," Sephiroth said, dryly.

"I thought about changing my last name," Cloud said, yawning again. He gave a slight wince when Sephiroth moved off of him, but the brief pain faded quickly. "'Cause, you know. Maybe it's an omen. Or something."

"I think it's just you," Sephiroth told him.

"You don't even _have_ a last name," was Cloud's brilliant retort.

"That's because I'm mysterious," Sephiroth said, smugly.

Cloud realized, with as much shock as he was capable of feeling at the moment, that Sephiroth must be feeling _the exact same way_ he was. "I'm not gonna want that all the time, y'know."

"I believe you have access to files that literally illuminate every facet of my life, Cloud."

"Do you do that on purpose?" Cloud asked, turning his head to look at him. "The thing where you pretend you're a robot when you answer questions."

"Sometimes," Sephiroth answered. The _otherness_ was gone, for the most part, leaving him looking more like a sleepy cat than anything.

"M'not gonna want to….you don't just get to fuck me all the time."

"Is this your way of telling me I'm not getting laid until I start cooking dinner again?" Sephiroth's slight smile faded at the look Cloud was giving him. "What is it?"

Cloud very rarely spoke without thinking, but it was a testament to his post-sex lassitude that he did so now. "I don't want you to become what you were."  
Sephiroth looked away from him, and Cloud, embarrassed at his sudden outburst, lay back down on the bed. _It was nice while it lasted, being relaxed,_ Cloud thought, unhappily.

It was a few minutes until Sephiroth spoke. "Neither do I, Cloud," he said, quiet voice lacking inflection in that way that meant _I don't want you to know I have feelings_. "Neither do I."

That he and his former arch-nemesis were so alike might have infuriated Cloud, weeks ago. It didn't, now.

Cloud wanted to say _I won't let you,_ but he didn't. He _couldn't_. There were too many old wounds, too many faces of people he couldn't save.

_If it happens, I'll kill you. I'll make sure you don't come back._ As hard as he tried, Cloud couldn't say _that_, either.

So Cloud said nothing at all, while all of the promises he wanted so badly to make turned to dust in his mouth.


End file.
